


Joe's Folly

by Fantasticly_Anonymous



Category: Bonanza
Genre: Adam Came Back From His Time Away!, And His Guardian Angel, And Joe's Knight In Shining Armor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ben Is A Protective Father, Candy Is Joe's Keeper, Cowboys in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Gen, HORSES!, Hoss Is A Good Older Brother!, Hurt/Comfort, Joe Likes His Gloves, Joe's Always Getting In Trouble, M/M, Slow Burn, Some Relatively Non-Graphic Violence And Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 75,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12881670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasticly_Anonymous/pseuds/Fantasticly_Anonymous
Summary: Joe's always getting in trouble. Good thing Candy's always there to get himoutof trouble.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a birthday present for a dear friend who, like me, has a special place in their heart for this wonderful show.  
> Happy Birthday!

Joe figured there were a lot of good reasons a person might find themselves staring down a rattler on a scorching summer day. Out in the middle of nowhere, laying on their belly in the middle of a barren hillside, no horse nor backup near by enough to do them any good.  
Any attempt to call for Cochise could be exactly the excuse the darn reptile was waiting on, and reaching for either of his weapons had the potential to be the last move he ever made. Before being bitten by a very deadly, admittedly pretty impressive looking creature. All those scales and no feet. How did the thing get around? Especially over all this _hot_ dirt and piles of stones? You'd think the thing would overheat and keel over before a human might, but _noooo_ ; they have to be perfectly adapted to their stupid environment and have no stinkin' eyelids! How could he possibly win a staring contest against a varmint that had no-

The report of a handgun going off no more than twenty yards off and the kick of grit and dust right into his face made Little Joe spring straight up off the loose, pebbly dirt and jerk his head uphill. The sun doing a nice job of obscuring anything up that direction well enough that he couldn't see a darn thing. So he looked to the ground instead and jumped a good four feet behind himself, an extremely dead rattler staring directly at his boots he'd just had freshly reheeled.  
Well: whoever'd shot at him was either a terrible shot, or hadn't been aiming for him at all. Therefore, "Hey, thanks for not giving fair warning. Nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Yeah, well you're alive, aren't ya?" Came a familiar call from far closer than the handgun could possibly have gone off.

"No thanks to you and that peacemaker of yours. Candy Canaday," the creeping smile impossible to keep from his face, Joe settled for putting up a hand to 'shade his eyes' as he waited for his friend to trek the remainder of the slope down to him.

"You're _really_ good at gettin' yourself into all sorts of trouble, you know that?" The man in red asked a bemused Little Joe as he came into spitting range.

"That's what I hear, but, way I look at it, I'm _real_ good at gettin' myself **out** of trouble."

"Ah. That where folks tend to get it mixed up?"

"Yep. Blame me for the trouble, but not for the solution." The two shared a quick snicker, Joe glancing down and nudging the considerably less deadly snake with the toe of one boot before looking back up and doing his best to suppress the ear to ear grin he felt threatening to get him teased all over again.  
"Thanks, by the way. For that."

"What on earth possessed you to slither on down this hill and play patticake with one of natures finest, forked tonguers?" Candy asked, no shortage of mirth tickling his face as he took a turn toeing the dearly departed desert dweller in the ribs.

"You really think I did that on purpose? I came down here to strike up a conversation with an animal that doesn't even have ears?"

"No, I said nothing about any conversation, Joe. But it would be awful nice to be able to tell Mr. Cartwright _exactly_ what from I've saved his youngest son this glorious day. Another of his cock-eyed schemes perhaps? Or maybe the snake owed you money?" Candy raised an eyebrow, daring the brunet in the green jacket to supply him with a more believable story.

"You find me down here retrieving a runaway canteen. Rolled down here after a rattler crawled out from behind a rock and spooked Cochise well enough that the blasted thing went flying," Joe explained, doing his darnedest to not come across as embarrassed as he felt. That only ever made Candy wanna jab harder.

"Mmhm. You wouldn't have happened to be _holding_ this canteen right before it went flying, would you?" He asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I cannot _believe_ \- _Me_ ," Joe bent and scooped up the exact item that had gotten him into his near death experience in the first place, straightening before getting back to the matter now first and foremost at hand. " _Me_ drop a canteen? You must be out of your mind with heatstroke, because I _never_ -" The feeling of his trusty canteen slipping right through his gloved fingers cut him off. Then the two of them watched as it clattered to the sandy dirt below, disturbing the dead rattler before coming to rest against the side of Candy's leather clad foot.

The taller of the two stooped to pick up the wayward water container, then held it in one hand as he straightened to look his rather red faced friend in the eye. "You _sure_ you weren't holding this?"

" _Give_ me that, and no. It was looped around the saddle horn, thank you very much," Joe said, hand extended and waiting non too patiently.

"Oh, even so, I think maybe this jewel ought to stay in my capable, _steady_ hands. Till we get back to the road anyway," Candy reasoned, enjoying the flabbergasted face of his friend before turning to start back up the hill he'd dirtied his boots trudging down.

"Hey, wait up!" Joe called, making a grab for Candy's dark vest. Cursing under his breath when he missed it by inches. Then cursing double when his 'savior' cackled and broke into an uphill jog. Obviously not considering the outlandish possibility that Joe just might have wanted some of the water he was carrying off.  
"Wait till I get my hands on you! You- you..." The threat petered out as Joe couldn't think of anything fitting to call the ranch hand who both did and _didn't_ deserve some sort of commendation. Or con _dem_ nation. "Ah, who needs him?" The words he muttered to himself as he began his ascension, paying far more attention to his surroundings than the invincible Candy'd bothered with.  
_He_ , after all, wasn't the one who'd just gone head to head with a diamond back and barely lived to tell the tale. Which, Joe came to think of, he probably wouldn't be telling many people about. What with Candy undoubtedly doing all the telling before he could stop him.  
What a pal.

"What's a matter, Joe? Gettin' slow in your old age?" The bronc buster in red suggested.

"You're older'n me and you know it. Now hand me that canteen so I can wash this desert grit outta my mouth," Joe demanded, hand outstretched.

"Well, alright, Joe," Candy said, breaking into a wry smirk as Joe accepted the canteen. "Just be sure not to drop it again." He dodged as Joe swiped at him with his free _er_ hand and danced off to pick up his horse's ground hitched reigns. Giving Cochise a pat as he passed her.

"Nn-nope! Don't touch my horse you- you scoundrel. Might infect her with your-"

"Famous good looks? My wonderful personality? My _steady_ gun hand? My-"

"Pig-headedness maybe," Joe said as he picked up Cochise's trailing reigns, eliciting a laugh from the guy swinging up into his own saddle.

"Oh really? As if your horse isn't the most pig-headed in the stable?"

"Candy," Joe said, a hint of warning to his voice.

"Why, I once walked by her stall carryin' a heavy carton of apples, didn't have a free _finger_ , couldn't'a handed her one no matter how much she nickered, and , well, long story short: She bit me right on the shoulder. So, no apple for Cochise."

"She probably thought your stupid shoulder was an apple. Bony as it is and you always wearing that same red shirt? Anybody could make that mistake," drawled a Joe taking his time securing his canteen to the saddle.

"Oh no, was no excusin' that behavior."

"Candy!" Spoke with enough command that Canaday, the army brat, just about snapped to. His next words though, spoken with a hand on his horse's neck, were in the neighborhood of tender. "Cochise has saved my life more times than I care to count, so unless you have a real grievance, _please_ -"

"Alright, alright Joe," said a startled straight ranch hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"

"Forget about it. It's fine," Joe said, giving his mount one more pat before checking her cinch, climbing up into the saddle and pointing them in the direction of home.

Candy nudged his horse to fall in just shy of shoulder to shoulder with Joe's at a long strided walk. He spent the better part of their first trail minutes studying in turn the sparse scrub brush, the occasional circling bird of prey some ways off, and the duo to his right.  
To his expert eye, his friend was both sounding and acting uncharacteristically stiff. He glanced at the face under that wide, cream colored, shading brim once more and his mind was made. _Definitely_ in need of some cheering up.  
"Y'know, Joe? Back there-"

"You can save it, Candy," informed a decidedly dour trail companion. "You don't like my horse and you plain felt like being inconsiderate today." Joe glanced over at the face of his friend, who appeared to be patiently waiting for his turn to finish his piece. "A- _after_ shooting the snake. Everything after that," he tacked on, facing front once more with a firm nod signaling he'd appreciate some peace and quiet.

"You sure know how to make a man sorry for savin' your life," Candy said, giving his hat an adjustment against the sun's harsh beating and therefore missing the signal Joe gave his trusty mount to transition into a jog. Granted, it was a pretty subtle signal.  
"Joe!" He called, tapping his own trusty steed in the ribs. "Joe, I'm sorry," he said in all seriousness as he came abreast once again. Getting himself another good look at the darkening expression on his friend's face. "I was just funnin' and I'm _sorry_. Will ya slow down so I can do this proper?"  
For a long moment, Candy thought that the hard look in Joe's eyes meant the answer was 'no'. Then the man in green sat a little deeper in his saddle and his paint mare settled back to a comfortable, efficient walk.  
One which Candy only then realized, his horse had to work to keep up with. Even though his chestnut was every hand as tall if not some fingers taller. Huh.

Joe's eyes lost their hard edge and he let out a breath, the same time his horse blew some trail dust from her nose. No doubt the sole reason for the microscopic smile that overtook his overall unhappy mouth, which disappeared when he addressed the horse next to him.  
"Talk if you want, but let's keep name calling out of it."

"Of course, Joe." Candy gave that a good half furlong to sink in, double checking that he'd come across as sincere and not chiding, as it looked like Joe had no patience for their usual joviality at present.  
"First off: I didn't start heading back to the ranch early to vex and displease. I was hoping I'd catch up to you and that we'd keep each other comp'ny."

Joe adjusted his seat and made a 'go on' sound in the back of his throat.

"And second: I was fibbing about Cochise and the apples. Truth is, I put away the carton then teased her with an especially scrumptious looking specimen. Long enough and she gave me a little nip which I now freely admit was... warranted." Candy didn't break from studying the side of his friend's head, _willing_ him to look over and see the sincerity written plain as day on his face.  
Only after Joe finally glanced his way did he add, "Honest, Joe, I didn't mean anything by it. Just joshin'."

Joe adjusted his reigns so they were looped loosely around one arm at the elbow, freeing up that hand so he could pull up his canteen for a drink.  
Candy watched as he unscrewed the cap and let it dangle, bringing the canteen higher while keeping one eye on the trail ahead.  
"Apology accepted," the only words directed at him before the canteen tipped and Joe's throat was busy with something else. Adam's apple bobbing along to the rhythm of the water flowing to his belly.

"Thanks, Joe."

"Mmhm," grunted only once Joe, obviously still peeved, put the canteen back where it was meant to spend the trip sloshing.

Watching Joe in his peripheral as they made their silent way, pondering what in heaven or hell he could _possibly_ have done to put his friend in such a mood, and figuring if it had truly been the jab at Cochise's character he'd have known already not to fib around about the horse, it occurred to Candy that the rankled guy was holding the reigns in his left hand.  
Being pretty sure the sour southpaw, like any good ranch hand, habitually reigned with his non-dominant hand, he felt his eyebrows draw down as his mind grew pensive.

After a stretch of less than companionable silence, in which Candy observed the rider next to him displaying several hallmarks of an 'unhappy' Cartwright, including clenching of the jaw and squinting of the eyes, a well formed question had come to him.  
"I was wondering..."

"Mm?"

"Back there a piece," Candy said, making sure not to come across as... mean spirited. "How did you _get_ down that embankment?"

"Walked. Just like anyone." Ooh, clipped delivery. Either embarrassed, or upset. Or _both_.

"You're awful dusty for someone who just 'walked' down a hill," Candy observed.

"You're awful nosy for someone who-"

"Joe, did you roll down that hill?"

"No," came the incredulous reply. Perhaps a little _too_ incredulous.

"Joe," Candy said, allowing a hair more concern peak through alongside his sincerity. "Joe, please," he said when his friend set his jaw and shortened his reigns minutely. Ready to ask Cochise for a higher speed. "Are you hurt?"

"Why would you think a fool thing like that, Canaday?" Asked Joe, none too happy but stalling his apparent plan for take off.

"...Is your arm broken?" Asked as Candy indicated the arm Joe seemed unsure what to do with because it wasn't reigning.

"If my arm was broken, how could I have checked my tack and mounted up? Hm? How could I do _this_ with a broken arm?" Joe defended, reaching up with his right hand to doff and don his hat in a sarcastic show of dandiness. Face morphing to one of shock when the beloved accessory slipped from his grip.

In unison, the two riders twitched their reigns and changed their seats so their mounts came to a smooth stop. Both looking back at a forlorn, cream colored hat laying brim down on the dirt trail directly behind them. Hoping it didn't get itself pooped on this fine, scorching day.

"So **that's** why you dropped the canteen. _After_ the snake died," said a relatively wide eyed Candy who hadn't been expecting any proof quite so damning as that. This time though, he'd caught the momentary pinched look which, on a Cartwright anyway, signified pain. It'd been there, off and on, since he'd met up with Joe down the side of that hill.  
"No wonder you been actin' more tender'n a horse with a sticker under the saddle," Candy said. Rather relieved to find that he wasn't the only reason for Joe's displeasure.

"Alright," Candy's head snapped back up at the word, worry percolating at his friend's resigned tone, "you can have your fun now. Yes, I got thrown and nearly bit by a snake and _yes_ , I hurt myself doing it. Laugh all you want."

Candy gawked at the image of perhaps the proudest ranchero he knew turning in the saddle, obviously attempting to hide his injured arm as it curled up against his chest in a bid for comfort. Gloved fingers bunching and flexing as if trying to work out a kink in his hand.  
Candy swallowed, feeling like he could use a deep drink, and nudged his horse in front of his pained friend's Cochise. Not sure whether he did it to block them from bolting off down the trail home or simply to get their attention, but expecting it was some mix of the two.  
When Joe finally brought his eyes up to meet his, Candy drew in a breath at the glint of vulnerability he hadn't been aware ever took up residence there and spoke, low and gentle. "Why would I laugh, Joe?"

"Why stop now? You laughed earlier," said a Joe who managed to muscle up a decent challenging look.

"Yes, but I laughed _because_ you were fine, Joe. I was **happy** I got the snake in time. I saw Cochise on the trail," Candy indicated the paint, careful to come across as respectful, "looking like a dog that couldn't find her owner." He looked to the side, where the hill still swept away same as it had where they'd met up. "I thought something bad- _real_ bad might'a happened, Joe." His friend met his eyes again at the use of his name. Starting to look about halfway to believing him too.  
"When I shot that rattler and you popped right up outta the dirt, why, I could'a sang a song, danced a jig, kissed ya right on the lips; I was pleased as pie."

Joe looked down at the appendage still curled against his chest, a small smile breaking through his melancholy. Candy catching the quirk of the nearly hidden mouth smiled right back, reassured that things were gonna be alright between them.

"Well, Canaday, I'll thank you once more for the excellent shot, but you're no doctor, so what good does you knowing about this," he gave his arm a little bounce, then cringed just a tad, "do anyone? You're gonna worry, I'm gonna be annoyed, and our horses are gonna get bored 'cause you're not gonna let us go above a _walk_ the whole way home!" Joe said, completely out of breath and a hair worked up by the end.

Candy smirked at the challenge and preened as he thumbed his own chest. "This is an army brat you're talking to. They taught me how to bandage up just about anything before I was out of dresses and into my big boy pants." "Now let's see that arm."

Joe bit his lip, looking down at his hand a moment before speaking. "It's just the wrist. I don't think anything's broken."

"Alright. So we'll stabilize it and have a doc look at it first thing," Candy declared, undoing the knot securing his ascot and peeling the thing off from around his summer sweated neck.

Joe looked on in bemusement. "Your fancy little kerchief? That'd never work as a sling! Not even for a youngster knee high to a-"

"Ah, but that's where you'd be mistaken, my good man," said Candy, reaching down and a tad behind himself to riffle around in one saddle bag. "As I always travel with _two_ handkerchief," he preened as he liberated the unsoaked length of black cloth with a flourish. Neither well gentled horses balking at the sudden flapping. Their only perceptible reaction being a curious flick of their closer ear.

Joe watched as Candy, tongue sticking between his teeth to help him concentrate, took two corners, tied a fancy knot, did the same to two other corners, creating a bit of a hammock looking shape.  
Then Candy applied some gentle calf pressure to his horse's off side to move him around closer to Joe's right. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Candy's patient said with a grimace stunted nod.

So the field dressing took place and Joe had his arm elevated and hanging from his neck in no time flat. Wrist at a far more comfortable angle than it was obvious the poor guy had thought possible.

Candy suppressed another smile, opting instead to ask a serious question. "Your head alright?"

"Of course. 'Protect your head'. Rule number one out of the Ben Cartwright rule book."

"Might be rule number three," Candy reminded, hands busy with double checking the knot behind Joe's jacket collar. Satisfied it wasn't gonna slip undone, he pulled just far enough away to have a good view of the rest of the sling. "Now, let's have a look at that wrist."

"And by 'look' you mean, 'Time to poke at it,' right?"

"I'll be gentle. Cross my heart," said the guy who only then became conscious of the fact that their knees were sandwiched together between two powerful beast of burden's bellies, which he could feel moving air like a couple of forge billows. If Joe didn't mind though, it was _fine_ by him.  
Reaching forward and pulling down the sage green jacket cuff, he felt around Joe's wrist with slow, measured movements. Pleased when it felt intact, though concerned that the glove would soon be constricting blood flow if it wasn't removed.  
"Start'n to swell, Joe. Best remove the glove till we can have it seen to proper."

"Right... Well-"

"It'll hurt less if I cut it off. That okay?" Candy asked with no urgency, knowing how attached Joe was to his riding gloves.

"Might be hard to get a new pair... Pa hates unnecessary waste. Wouldn't wanna buy a new pair on account of-"

"On account of his youngest son narrowly escaping death? Oh, I don't think he'd bat an eye. He dotes on you, you know that? In fact," Candy started, pulling out his pocket knife and flicking it open, "if I do this right, I bet he'd darn it himself. To tide you over till the new pair come in," he explained at Joe's incredulous, questioning look.

"I don't think I've seen my pa darn a thing in my _life_. What makes you think-"

"Well," Candy said, expertly slipping his knife under the supple black leather and giving the back of the glove a nice slit from the hem of the wrist to the middle finger's first knuckle. "There's a first time for everything. Isn't there, Joe?" As he slipped the poor, dissected glove off the swelling wrist and aching hand, he thought he spied the beginnings of a Cartwright smile.

"Yeah, Candy. I guess there is."

Patient's arm comfortable -relatively so- and secured, the red shirt stashed his once again folded pocket knife and the four friends headed back home. A quick, "Just lemme know if you need help with that pesky canteen anytime," the last either of them said with any seriousness until they hit the main house and were greeted by a white haired Cartwright who _really_ didn't appreciate being told it 'looked worse than it was, honest.'

Surprisingly, to Mr. Canaday anyway, it was Mr. Hop Sing who provided a poultice to take down the swelling _and_ who managed to calm the driven to distraction Ben who'd ordered Candy 'to bed without supper' for bringing Joseph home in such condition.  
He'd apologized to his son's savior not long after Hop Sing had coaxed him into a chair and plied him with tea and fresh shortbread cookies, then given the bashful guy a good thanking and an invitation to stay for dinner. An invitation Candy couldn't have said no to if he'd wanted to.

~

When Joe woke the next morning, well, closer to noon than a ranch hand's typical type of morning really, the first thought to flit through his fuzzy mind just so happened to be 'ow'. Followed closely by, "Wha's on my arm?" Which he was surprised to find was bound with an apparent expertise in the fine art of bandage wrapping which he didn't think his pa possessed. The little bow at one end far more intricate than anything he'd ever seen around the Ponderosa that didn't happen to be attached to someone's Christmas stocking.  
So who could have- Right. That devil in the grass Candy Canaday. Must've trussed him up at his pa's behest around the time he'd finally agreed to Ben's demands that he take, at minimum, three days _completely_ off of work.

Hmm. Maybe there'd been a little sleeping potion in that 'healing' tea Hop Sing'd insisted he and _only_ he drink **two** cups of while his wrist soaked and 'poulticed'.  
"For sprain," he'd explained, pushing a fresh cup of bitter, black tea on him while he couldn't escape. Eyes beginning to droop even though the sun hadn't yet dropped below the nearby mountain peaks.  
Come to think of it, how was he in his own bed now if he'd fallen asleep at the table? Before dinner even? Hoss was the only one in the house strong enough to carry someone his size up those stairs, wasn't he? And he hadn't been home for the evening yet.

On second thought; he didn't want to think about that any longer. _Especially_ not when bleary images and muffled sounds of a long suffering though fond fatherly voice agreed to the suggestion that an undisturbed night of rest in his own bed was just what the Hop Sing had ordered. Then, dimmer as it went on, Joe remembered being unable and frankly uninterested in refusing the arms that scooped him with a cavalier confidence from the chair he was slumped in, against a chest filled with more wiry, raw power than anyone would have guessed, and up an entire floor to lay him to rest.  
He could feel his face heating up already. The thought of being carried to bed like some sort of rug-rat not helping him muster up the will to do something about his bottomless hole of a stomach. Beginning to growl at him like some sort of angry dog he'd forgotten to leave scraps out for.

Pushing best he could against a wall of musty memories he'd just as soon _forget_ , Joe turned some without lifting either his still sleepy head nor **currently** pain free arm and inadvertently caught sight of something laying out on his side table.  
"Haha!" Candy'd been right. His pa _did_ dote on him.

Reaching out with his good hand, Joe admired the clean, even stitches making the previously damaged half of his favorite pair of riding gloves appear just about good as new. Which he found a relative comfort in the face of the knowledge that he'd be completely grounded and benched for 'a minimum of three days' by none other than the head honcho and his right hand cook. _And_ if he was particularly unlucky, Candy would be one hundred percent on board with the whole thing along with them.

Joe gave the ceiling a sigh as he resigned himself to an upcoming dull few days of being either completely ignored, or waited on hand and foot by no fewer than two hopeless caregivers and one 'friend' who just couldn't keep his nose out of other people's business.

Joe gave the wrapping on his wrist a feather light, curious touch as a strange thought entered his mind: That just maybe, he was the _teensiest_ bit glad the infuriating, ridiculous, perpetually red shirted Candy had come along when he had.  
And that he'd gotten that snake on the **first** try.

"Thanks, Candy," Joe said to an empty-

"Aw, shucks. Welcome, Joe," came the voice of a ranch hand leaning against Joe's doorjamb who promptly received a flying pillow to the face.  
"If this's the thanks I get for my good turn, then maybe I should turn to a life of crime instead."

"How about turning and leaving my room? Before-"

"Before what? _I_ have the pillow," the man in the doorway said.

"Oh no you don't! You- you- scoundrel you!"

The rest of the house, settling in for a delicious lunch, found great amusement in the sounds of laughter, shouting, and pillows being tossed around.  
Ben, especially entertained, could be found sitting at the head of the table, shaking his head and giggling to himself.

When Hop Sing laid a large platter of perfectly scrambled eggs on the center of the table, he noticed the strange noise the senior Cartwright was making and leaned in to investigate.  
"What wrong?"

"What? Oh, nothing's wrong, Hop Sing," he managed between peels of hearty chuckles. "Just," he pointed toward the stairs and the ridiculous noise filtering down from the top floor. "Children!" All he could squeeze out as he grabbed a serving spoon and leaned around his long time friend. **Ready** for some lunch.

"Children? More like _menace_!" At the understanding look the three times father sent him, Hop Sing couldn't help it a moment longer and joined in the laughter. Hoss doing the same the moment he walked in the front door and discovered what all the commotion was about.

"Not a bad way to start a convalescence," Ben muttered under his breath as he popped his first bite of food in his mouth. Nearly choking on it when a shout of, 'Not fair!' followed a certain red shirted someone barreling down the stairs.  
"They'll be the death of me yet," he told their long suffering cook soon as he'd cleared his throat.

Hop Sing took one more glance around at the mockery his dining room had become, turned, and retreated to the safety and relative peace of his kitchen. Muttering unhappily as his departure caused even more laughter. Not sure how such a thing was possible.


	2. The Kerchief, The Appointment, And The Replacement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe has no idea why he cares about that stupid kerchief sling Candy made for him. And he can’t figure out why he didn’t want to give it back.  
> And that’s just before lunch!

Joe gave back the two kerchiefs jury-rigged into one lopsided, barely workable sling first chance he got. Which turned out to be pretty darn soon, as it just so happened that Hop Sing _also_ ‘dotes’ on him and had taken it upon himself to make a professional quality, hand stitched sling for him before lunch the day after the... incident. Left it on the side table by his repaired gloves.  
Color even matched his usual outfit. Jacket or no. 

Joe had no idea how their cook managed it. Especially not in between cooking up literal _mountains_ of food to keep Hoss’s stomach from rumbling, and shooing wayward ranch hands out of his kitchen. It just didn’t make sense.  
And yet it happened. 

After their utterly juvenile pillow fight, Joe came down soon as the ungodly loud laughter died down, proudly sporting his new accessory, and handed the impromptu sling back to Candy in a wadded up, slightly tangled mess. Pretending it didn’t feel like too soon to say goodbye to the unfortunate clothing modification.  
He told himself as he sat at his usual place at the dining table that his new one was head and shoulders above that uncomfortable thing Candy’d foisted on him the day before, but he took a little more convincing than he’d have liked. Especially his fingers, which, for some strange reason, had clung to the soft fabric just a moment longer than made sense, before dropping the two in one kerchiefs into the waiting hand across from him. 

“Thanks, Joe. Now I can go back to lookin’ like myself again,” Candy said, shoving the monstrosity in a rear pocket before taking his own seat with an incorrigible grin. A grin which had somehow made giving the stupid sling back just a tick harder.  
Probably not what he’d been going for. 

“Yeah. Thanks for the loan,” Joe answered, doing his best to put the thing out of his mind and just grin back.

“No problem ‘tall. Just bein’ neighborly.”

“Thanks anyway,” Joe insisted, giving his arm a little squirm in its new, _comfier_ resting place. 

“Alright, boys,” said the man at the head of the table around a big mouthful of fluffy eggs. “Lunch’ll get cold if you two don’t settle down and eat.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yessir.” The two popped off in tandem. Hiding a couple of snickers at the absurd synchronicity.  
Going straight to stuffing eggs in their mouths when Ben _and_ Hoss cleared their throats at the same time. Then started snickering themselves. To which the entire table barely kept from busting a gut laughing. 

After Hop Sing started the plate clearing process, Candy went off to feed **both** of their horses a few carrots and see to the rest of his post-lunch chores, and, with a quick ‘thanks’, Joe went off to get officially dressed for the day. Learning as he did, how much nicer life was when his arm wasn’t out to get him. Hating the way it complained when he took the stairs back to his room too quickly; yowling at him like a wildcat when he bumped it against his door jam.  
Couldn’t wait to get it out of that space eating sling. 

 

~

 

Ah. Fresh air. Just the thing to chase a luncheon with.  
Though Joe realized it had been only yesterday he and Candy had had their little adventure, it felt like a long time since he’d been out in the sun. The grit of Nevada dirt under his boots and the shadow of... probably a rock dove flying overhead.  
Sure beat being inside an empty house with nothing for company except the steady ticking of the grandfather clock. And the occasional crashes or the sound of scrubbing from the kitchen. Which he was disallowed to enter. Or to even _think_ about entering.  
Ever since... well, ever since the time he’d gotten it in his head that Hop Sing must get lonely, all cooped up for pretty much the whole day. Boiling potatoes and chopping carrots and snapping ears of corn.  
Being younger and far less wise than he now found himself, he’d attempted to do the only cook the main house of the Ponderosa had ever known a kindness and keep him company. 

Turns out, either he was a terrible singer, or Hop Sing wasn’t near as lonely as ‘Little’ Joe’d been thinking. Because the next thing he knew, he was **outside** the kitchen and watching a serious chef blocking the door with an expression which brooked no argument.  
“You stay out. Kitchen for Hop Sing only.” The instructions he’d dared not challenge as his younger self worried about the possibility of never eating again. 

From an older viewing point, Joe could see a few reasons why Hop Sing might not have been... comfortable with the youngest Cartwright spending time in his busy kitchen. The myriad knives coating every surface _had_ been utterly tempting; shiny as they were. And so had the decapitated chickens hanging from a clothing line along one window sill. What with being all pink and featherless, Joe would **definitely** have wanted to touch one of those.  
Then there was the fact that he _did_ touch a stove pot to see whether it was hot and had tried to cover by sticking his ever so slightly burned finger in his mouth the second before Hop Sing turned around. Practically caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. 

Yeah, Joe’d learned to leave the cook to his business and just put up with the occasional spell of boredom, which, thankfully, were _actually_ only occasional. Especially since Candy’d signed on and turned out to be just about the most interesting, fun person Joe’d ever met. Even gave Joe someone to take trips to town with who wasn’t Hoss or his own pa. 

Hm. Maybe he could find Candy somewhere ‘round and get him to critique his singing. Wouldn’t necessarily distract the guy from work, depending on what he was up to for the afternoon.  
Yep. That was it! Joe was gonna find Candy and-

“Joseph?” Joe pulled up short at the familiar, baritone call of his name. “Where are you going?” Asked the silver haired patriarch from his saddle seat atop his buckskin. No doubt headed out from the barn after Buck’d had a good equine rubdown along with his lunchtime carrots. 

Thinking on his feet, Joe said the least incriminating thing that came to mind. “I was gonna make sure Cochise is-“

“Shouldn’t you be resting? In your bed or at least sitting comfortably somewhere _inside_ the house?” 

Joe resisted the urge to duck his head as he reminded himself he was a full grown Cartwright who could make health related decisions on his own.  
Then he squared his shoulders and looked his father in the eye... and all that conviction went out the window. The combination of authority and worry he found in the gaze taking the wind right out of his sails.  
“Yeah, Pa. I just remembered I got a book I been meanin’ to give a read.”

“Now _that_ sounds like a relaxing time! Just what the doctor ordered,” Ben said, giving Buck a pleased tap behind the cinch, asking him to proceed.  
Yep. They were headed away from the barn alright. Which meant they could be prowling absolutely any part of the ranch at any given moment, just waiting to come across Joe having a modicum of fun and ruining it with a good old fashioned, fatherly talking to.  
Made for a pretty good guilt trip when you already knew he had legitimate concerns behind his worry. Even if they were overblown.  
After all: It was just a sprain, Joe thought. Right before his wrist gave a pang, as if to prove him wrong, and he hissed through his teeth at the reminder of his unlucky fall. 

Joe sighed and turned back the way he’d come, feeling as if he’d just been cheated out of a well deserved social visit, and scrounged up that book he really had remembered about. Taking it to his favorite seat at the seating array and being careful not to crease the spine as he paged to the start of chapter one. 

 

~

 

Having been invited for dinner once again, Candy figured it couldn’t possibly be rude of him to show up a little early and see whether food wasn’t a little early as well. So he sauntered right on up to the front door, not bothering with anything so formal as a knock, and announced his entrance as he gave the handsomely finished piece of wood an opening push. “‘Lo in there! Is it dinner time or is it just me? Because I am-“

“Shh!” Insisted a Hoss who happened to be standing _right_ inside, pressing a finger to his own mouth as he span the ranch hand right around and attempted to push him back out the front door. 

Not having it, Candy dug his heels in and pushed back. Eyes going wide when he found himself barely big enough to stop from being bodily ejected by the determined guy. “Wha-?” All Candy got out before a familiar distressed voice coming from the dining room cut him off. 

“Adam’s gonna kill me! I was supposed to meet him on the upper pasture _this_ morning! How could I be so-“

“Now, Joseph, you know Adam will understand,” the voice of Ben Cartwright said in a very reasonable tone. “He _is_ your brother, after all.”

“Which is **exactly** why I’m done for! He expects ‘excellence’ from anyone with our last name and missing an appointment on account of gettin’ yourself thrown off your own horse doesn’t sound like excellence to me,” Joe said, quite out of steam by the end. Sounding like he’d plopped down in a chair in a show of utter defeat. 

_Really_ wanting a front seat to that particular conversation, and having some experience with wrastlin’, Candy dug his heels in even harder against the absolute **wall** of a middle brother still trying to push him out the front door. Then, all of a sudden, he plain stopped resisting and twisted to one side at the same time, so that the force the giant of a man was still exerting took Hoss right out the open door and Candy got to walk right on through the living room and present himself to the drama taking place in the Cartwright dining area.  
All before Hoss could catch up to him, shaking an accusing finger the way he sometimes did when his younger brother pulled a fast one on him. 

“Ah, Candy, Hoss! One of you may just be the answer to our present problem!” Ben said, gesturing for Candy and Hoss to join them. Waiting until they were seated as well to continue. “You see, Adam is with a team moving cattle in the upper pasture and he had arranged for Joe to meet him there early this morning.” Candy nodded, appreciating the _calm_ timber of the recap. Also wondering why it sounded like Hoss was fidgeting up a storm in the seat next to him.  
“Well, in light of recent events and all the concomitant hubbub, it _completely_ slipped everybody’s mind-“

“Every mind except Adam’s,” mumbled a Joe who’s face was smooshed quite comically into the dining table. 

“Joseph, sit up; you’ll develop poor posture.”

“Yes, Pa.” Candy fought hard to keep a straight face as Joe managed a sullen slouch. Outlook obviously not a smidge less bleak. 

“As I was saying: Adam requires additional administrative assistance with the team and to help oversee logistics and I think one of you is just the saddle tramp for the job. If you’ll pardon the... uh, _misnomer_ ,” Ben said. Then, expression taking the barest of a sheepish turn, he added, “You’re both perfect gentlemen.”

Candy nodded, figuring he understood the head honcho’s slip of the tongue, and glanced beside him to Hoss who’s resigned countenance made the guy look almost as if he didn’t want to be there... Oh.  
_That_ was why he’d been trying to push both himself and Candy out the front door. He didn’t want to go to the upper pasture and had thought that Candy wouldn’t want to either. Which was understandable, considering the long uphill portions of the trail —if you wanted to get there in any reasonable kind of time anyway— and the tiring reality of running a team and moving any considerable number of cattle _any_ where. 

Candy nodded again and looked to his boss. Jaw set.  
“I’ll go, Mr. Cartwright.” He did his best to ignore the incredulous look Hoss gave the side of his head. Keeping a neutral face himself. 

“Ha! Now _that’s_ the kind of initiative I like to hear! Alright, it’s settled then. You’ll take off first thing in the morning and I’m sure Hop Sing wouldn’t mind packing some fresh rations for your trip?” Ben asked, pointing the question part over his shoulder toward the adjoining kitchen. 

Several disgruntled, unintelligible sentences came at them from the open doorway. Ben smiled and translated, “He’d be delighted.” Which was followed by several more, _further_ disgruntled statements and the clanging of metal bowls and wooden ladles.  
“Sounds as if dinner is almost ready. Shall we freshen up?”

“You took the words right outta my mouth, Pa,” Hoss said, sounding excited as he stood from his chair.  
Before he turned for the stairs though, he put a hand on Candy’s shoulder and gave him a private wink. Almost as if saying, ‘I owe you one’. 

Huh. Candy thought, watching one of the biggest men he’d ever met ascend the stairs to his own room, that it could be nice being ‘owed one’ by someone as... well, **big** as Hoss. Never knew when an imposing presence might come in handy.  
Feeling his mouth quirk, Candy stood from his own chair and made for the door, aware that a suggestion from the boss to ‘freshen up’ was likely something closer to being told you were filthy and really needed a little scrub behind the ears. 

“Uh, Joe, aren’t you going to freshen up?” Ben asked. Causing Candy to pause halfway to the door and turn. Interested in seeing the answer. 

“What’s the point? Adam’s never gonna look at me the same as it is.” The tone of absolute certainty brought Candy to a place of concern.  
Was Adam really so strict that his opinion of Joe would sour because he’d missed one appointment? Due to injury?

“Joe, did you hear a word that Candy, your brother, and I discussed?” Ben asked, face a patient sort of long suffering. 

“Did it have something to do with permanently replacing me?” Asked the brunet with the hangdog eyes. 

“No, and you do realize you’re being ridiculous, don’t you?”

“You won’t say that when Adam gets back and disowns me. He’ll probably never speak to me again.”

By then, reinforced by the fatherly chuckling coming from the silver haired man still seated at the head of the table, Candy’d cottoned on that Joe really was being ridiculous. After all: Who ever heard of someone as reportedly levelheaded as this famed oldest son disowning a brother over such a blameless situation?

“No. In fact, Candy over there volunteered to go in your stead,” Ben said, pointing where the vaquero stood. “He’s leaving in the morning.”

“Really?” Joe asked, eyes flicking between the two of them. A glint of hope obvious. 

“Yep. _I’m_ the lucky sonofa who gets to spend the next couple days gettin’ to know yer oldest brother,” Candy said, chest puffed just a hair. 

The moment of relief seemed to pass Joe up quickly, and when the guy in the fancy sling sat back into his slouch, Candy felt his chest sink in response. 

“What’s a’matter? Aren’t you going to thank Candy for taking the job?” Ben prompted when nothing more happened. 

“Hm?” Asked Joe, looking up from a speck on the table he appeared to have been inspecting. “Oh, right. Th-thanks, Candy. Guess I owe ya for two now.”

The ranch hand who was probably caked in dirt from head to toe averted his eyes in an unconscious show of bashfulness and rocked forward and back on his feet.  
“Don’t owe me nothin’, Joe. We’re friends, and friends help each other out.”

“Yeah. Friends,” Joe said, looking distracted as he stood from the table. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see ya at dinner, Candy.”

At that, the youngest member of clan Cartwright walked right past the guy who’d now arguably saved his skin _twice_ in the past two days, obviously distracted by _some_ thing, and took the stairs slower than either other in the room thought they’d ever seen him take them.  
There wasn’t much that Joe did slow and taking stairs just wasn’t one of them. 

When the back at the top landing moved out of sight, Candy swiveled to find the clan’s eldest member with a look that must have mirrored his own: A bit confused, a bit concerned, and a bit amused.  
Then they shared a nod, making a silent agreement that everything was going to be just fine, and Candy left the house eager to return freshened up for dinner. 

A dinner through which Candy couldn’t for the life of him understand Joe’s melancholy. The guy was shuffling the food around his plate more than stuffing it in his mouth.  
Plus the fact that he barely looked Candy in the face, let alone the eyes, and every time he did... it was a look tilted towards blue. 

Even when they said goodbye for the evening and Joe followed him out the front door to thank him once more for taking his place, the smile hadn’t really reached his eyes.  
Then, when Candy’d offered a parting hug, thinking maybe his friend could use a moment of comfort, he’d pieced together the reason for Joe’s low mood. 

The man in the sling was gonna miss him.  
It was all in the way his careful, one armed embrace had latched on and taken obvious effort to unlatch. 

“Joe?”

“Hm?”

“I’ll be back soon as the job’s done with. Promise.”

And Joe’d toed the ground, bashful at being found out, and said, “Thanks, Candy. It’s gonna be a drag, only them around. Tellin’ me what to do.”

“Well, don’t fret. I won’t shirk and me _and_ yer brother’ll be back lickety-split.”

A small but genuine smile and another thanks came his way, and Candy shuffled off to an early bed. Ready for his new assignment and everything that came with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Turns out there’s more to the story than I thought!  
> Truth be told though, a friend requested I either write another Bonanza work or continue the one I already wrote. So I chose this!  
> Hope ya’ll’re ready for some more Cartwright fun.


	3. The Uncomfortable Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heehee! The fateful first meeting of Adam Cartwright and Candy Canaday! Wonder how it’ll go? If so, feel free to read on! :D

Candy took off early, as he’d promised. Just stopping by the main house to pick up the fresh rations Hop Sing had been ‘happy’ to shove at his chest. While pushing him back out the kitchen door and saying many, many things Candy couldn’t for the life of him understand. 

Little pack secured behind the cantle of his saddle, Candy mounted up and pointed his horse in the direction of the upper pasture. Giving a sigh at the miles of trail he knew he had to make before breakfast and figured he wouldn’t actually be able to cover before lunch.  
He turned for a last glance back at the house, eyes lingering on the second story window he knew belonged to the friend he was subbing for.  
Knowing the shadow he thought he saw move in the reflective surface was just a trick of the nearby pines, he heaved another sigh and took off for a cattle drive he’d made a snap decision to join. 

He rode with his head high though, knowing, in the very least, that it had been the _right_ snap decision. No regrets. He was gonna enjoy the work and the chance to work more closely with a Cartwright he’d so far really only met in passing. One he’d been eager to have a real conversation with ever since Joe’d first mentioned he had another, even older, older brother. 

 

~

 

Candy’s first impression of the second oldest Cartwright had been in the form of stories. The majority of which came from the excited mouth of the youngest Cartwright.  
Joe’d taken it upon himself to spread the gospel about his wayfaring sibling. Telling tales of the different innovations Adam had brought the Ponderosa, surrounding areas, and even far flung locales.  
The fact that he’d made it go right to get an eastern schooled education under his belt, taken what amounted to a foreman’s role on the family ranch, and even designed and overseen the building of the main house, all before Joe had been old enough to drink, had instilled a lasting sense of awe early in Joe’s formative years.  
So well that Candy could practically _see_ the stars in his friend’s eyes whenever he told a story about his absent relation. 

But since the wanderluster had returned home from the sea and the far away country called ‘Australia’, most Candy’d seen of him had seemed serious, strict, and reserved.  
‘Course, that was as just some employee Adam had never worked with and the moment the guy’s boots had touched Ponderosa soil he’d been absolutely back into character as foreman and architect. With some colorful new stories to share around the dining table, Joe’d mentioned. Smiling up a storm at having his entire family together again. Happy as a pig in shi-  
Heh. Wrong simile. 

Joe’d made formal introductions soon as he’d been able to drag Candy and Adam near each other, and since then they’d said ‘Hi’ a few times, but that was the extent of it.  
Yeah. Candy was aware Adam knew him about well enough to recognize him at a distance as well as in passing, so as he drew nearer the boundaries of the upper pasture, he wasn’t surprised to see a mounted figure in black watching his and his own horse’s progress up the hills. Waiting.

“Where is that delinquent brother of mine?” Candy heard directed at himself as he topped the last bluff and came within shouting distance of a sour looking Adam Cartwright. 

“Yer family’s not all that big on friendly greetings, are y’all?”

The sour edge melted some and the cow punch on the chestnut spoke again, quieter this time with the steady approach of the coming rider. “Where are my manners?” Adam pushed a thumb against the underside of his brim in a tiny tip of the hat. “I hope the ride was pleasant.”

“Oh, now that’s much more welcomin’!” Candy said with a toothy grin. Pulling up close enough for casual conversation. “And yes it was, thanks fer askin’.”

Adam gave a nod and rested his free hand on top the one preoccupied holding his horse’s reigns. “Well, not that it isn’t nice to see you up here on the range, but I distinctly remember asking that conniving little _brother_ of mine to meet me here and no later than breakfast.” 

“Well now, by my estimation, it’s only ‘bout lunch time,” Candy offered, attempting to keep the conversation on an even kilter. 

“Of yesterday.”

“Oh.” Right. Candy’d forgotten that part.

“Yep,” Adam said, sighing big enough to move his shoulders before going on. “I’ve taken to rounding up strays until such time as he deigned to show his face. Keepin’ the team occupied with it too,” Adam said, using the back of his free hand to wipe at his jaw. Perhaps satisfying some stray itch there. “How _did_ he rope you into taking his place? And please don’t tell me you lost a bet.”

Candy sat a beat, wondering exactly which angle he should come at the subject from; not quite sure whether Adam Cartwright was the kind who preferred straight forward and to the point, or if he didn’t appreciate a little preamble before getting down to brass tacks. 

“It was a bet, wasn’t it? Of all the no good- Next time I see that Joseph Cartwright, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind. A big piece,” Adam ended. 

“How d’ya know _I’m_ not the one to blame here?” Candy asked. Affronted. 

“ **Are** you?”

“Well, no, but-“

“I knew it. That boy’s _impossible_ -“

“Uh,” Candy interjected, getting Adam’s attention before things could get too far out of hand. “Pardon my forwardness, but, last time I checked: Joe wasn’t any kind of ‘boy’ I ever met.”

“Thank you.” Adam nodded. “That _charlatan_ -“

“Uh, don’t ya think there could be some _reason_ I’m here instead of your brother?” Candy asked, giving his horse a pat on the neck when she nickered at him. Bored of standing still so long. 

“Oh, I expect to hear _all_ about it when I get back there. Tall tales and misdirections abound in the house of-“

“Adam?”

“Yes?” The older rancher asked, sounding rather terse for being cut off so many times. 

“Joe was thrown from his horse, day before last. Your pa’s the one asked me to come up here and-“

“Joe was thrown? Is he alright? No. If he was, _you_ wouldn’t be here; our father’d see to that.” Candy had to blink to stop his head from spinning at the sheer speed the older brother went from strictly disappointed to near white with worry.  
The difference a little listening could make.  
“What happened?” Adam asked, nudging his horse to bring him closer to the other mounted man. 

“There was a snake in the trail back from town, Cochise threw him off one side of the hill, I found him before a different snake could take a bite outta him, and-“

“Is he _alright_?” Adam asked. Force behind the words. Face dark. 

“He will be, just soon as-“

“What **happened**? Is he-”

“Let me finish?” At the impatient prompting motion of both a reign filled and an empty hand, Candy went on.  
“He’s alright. Landed just bad enough to sprain a wrist, but don’t worry: Your ‘charlatan’ will be back to work soon.”  
Candy watched as a gamut of guarded expressions flitted across the eldest Cartwright brother’s face, hoping his explanation hadn’t been _too_... insubordinate. 

When Adam’s face settled on a rather neutral relieved, he motioned for Candy to follow, reigning the red horse with the white blaze around toward a little chuck wagon Candy hadn’t noticed until then. Though, he admitted, the horse had probably been intentionally blocking it from view.  
He wouldn’t put it past the _rider_. After all, he still didn’t know Joe’s oldest brother that well. But, if his reaction to the news had been anything to go by, it was a muted sort of obvious that the guy cared for that ‘no good, _impossible_ , conniving, delinquent boy’ of a brother of his. 

Candy dismounted a second behind his boss for the next few days and tied his horse to the wagon, next to Adam’s. Then, hoping the beasts got along at least as well as the riders were so far, he shadowed the arguably more mature man over to the chuck side of the wagon and collected a plate of lunch from someone named ‘Cookie’.  
When the guy in all black patted his shoulder and motioned to some stump ‘seats’ and ‘tables’ they had a cooking fire situated near, he accompanied and picked the second least sap dotted perch. Then swallowed about half his plate before his rump had a chance to complain how hard the rough hewn wood was. 

“You mentioned there was a _second_ snake?” Piped up Candy’s neighbor, who it turned out had barely picked at his own helping of food. 

Deciding he really couldn’t judge Adam harshly for the way he’d spoken to a semi-aquaintace about _his_ youngest brother, he shifted just a hair so he wouldn’t need to turn his head to see him, and explained.  
“Yeah, at the bottom of the hill. I shot it and Joe jumped up like somethin’ bit him, cursin’ me for a devil. Weren’t till he smiled I knew he was... fine.”

“Mm,” said Adam. Mouth finally preoccupied with a bit of his lunch.  
Or else plain mute with tension. Candy hadn’t _seen_ him fill his gob after all. 

“Got him in a sling and back to the ranch house fine and dandy, but,” Candy paused a second, wondering whether expressing worry over someone was the kind of thing you could do in the presence of that someone’s worried older brother, before licking his lips and continuing, “findin’ Cochise alone on the trail like that?” He finished with a shake of his head. 

“Worst feeling you can imagine?” It was Candy’s turn for a mute reaction. Just a surprised blink and nod.  
“Been there myself. More’n once,” Adam admitted. Then, with a grimacing nod, “Actually shot the kid, out on a wolf hunt. Back when he _was_ a kid,” he added. Much to Candy’s horror. “Always was better in the underbrush than me. Good stalker.”

“Is that why he has a scar right-“

“Yes,” the guy who’d once nearly committed fratricide confirmed. After a quick glance to see where Candy’d indicated. 

“Looked like a nasty place to get shot.”

“ **Any** place is a nasty place to get shot,” Adam insisted. Looking uncomfortably like he spoke from experience. Especially readjusting his shoulders the way he did. 

Off hand, Candy wondered whether _any_ member of this all male family **hadn’t** been shot. Then shuddered before filling his mouth once more, right as he heard Adam do the same. 

“Thank you, by the way,” Adam started around a hearty swallow. “For finding my brother. And for shooting the snake.”

“Ha,” Candy huffed, attempting to not spit out any crumbs. “Believe me, I’m just as happy about Joe bein’ alright as you,” he said. Then cleared his suddenly dry mouth with a swallow when he realized what he’d just said. To his boss.  
Presumption could get a hand into a lot of trouble, depending on the character of the superior you used it with, and presuming to know how much they cared about family? Pretty touchy subject for some.

“...I just might at that,” came Adam’s breezy reply. Then the guy filled his mouth again and it was business for the rest of the day. 

After the conversation they’d had, Candy both felt as if he’d narrowly dodged a bullet, and was just plain glad he didn’t get treated any different from the other hands moving that portion of beef herd to better grazing; no better nor worse. Just how he figured he deserved to be treated. 

By lunch the next day, he’d made up his mind that Adam Cartwright was, if nothing else, a fair man. One with a fast temper regulated by an astounding sense of self control, and a goodly amount of cow sense to go with his book smarts. Which seemed considerable on their own.  
Candy decided they could probably, someday, be good friends. If Adam learned to laugh a little when Candy cracked a joke at him. Though, the poor educated guy would need to be able to _tell_ he’d cracked a joke first... 

They had time to work on it, Candy thought as he tossed a loop over a steer taking a wrong turn. Not interested in letting it become a stray.

Who knew? Maybe when they got back to the ranch, Adam wouldn’t be disinterested in working together again, and if that was the case, maybe Candy’d even get to know the guy a little.  
More outlandish miracles _were_ known to happen. Miracles like Joe actually enjoying his forced time off and maybe even managing to not get in trouble without Candy around to help get him out of it.  
Or to help him enjoy it, depending on what kind of trouble it was. 

Yeah. Candy wondered how his lonely friend was faring as he pulled his ‘fancy little kerchief’ up to keep the dust out of his nose and helped the little steer on the end of his rope rejoin the herd. 

Cow back with its friends, Candy recoiled his lasso and decided Joe couldn’t possibly have enjoyed being on this mini cattle drive as much as some good old fashioned idle time back at the hacienda.  
...But just in case, “Ya!” Candy nudged the cattle to keep up their pace and nudged his horse to help keep the cattle on the straight and narrow. Because, being honest with himself, one could never overestimate the power of boredom. Especially not when Joe Cartwright was the one with nothing to do. 

And completely besides that point; Candy _wanted_ to be there. Doubly so when his friend needed someone to help keep him company. 

So, checking the herd was still lumbering in the right direction, Candy, hoping it’d help get him back to the ranch house just that bit sooner, gave another good, “Ya!”


	4. A Comfy House; A Comfy Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back at the ranch:

Hearing Candy ride away on a business excursion _he’d_ given his word to see to himself plain didn’t sit right. Put his teeth on edge. Made it hard to think positive thoughts. Even made his wrist hurt more.  
_Watching_ it happen was even worse. Put a period at the end of a bad sentence. One that sentenced him to hard time he was going to have to spend completely alone. 

Joe knew that these negative feelings had something to do with the fact that he’d been planning on spending downtime around the ranch _with_ Candy. Having a friend nearby while he recuperated would’ve helped take the edge off the ache already building in his brain at the prospect of having nothing to do. 

The other source of sourness originated in the fact that Joe’d previously been excited at the prospect of spending some quality time with his most work oriented brother. Hard to believe, but he’d actually been looking forward to being administrative help on the tiny herd relocation drive.  
After all, he fact that Adam hadn’t been back all that long, coupled with the guy’s life long love affair with anything work related, meant Joe still had lots of things he wanted to catch him up on and _unknown_ numbers of things he wanted to **be** caught up on. And considering work was just about Adam’s favorite thing in the world, it would have been the perfect opportunity for both. 

Joe turned away from his window and sighed to himself, rubbing the feeling of sleep off his face and knowing bone deep that he was gonna need some sort of distraction from all the disappointments, discomforts, and restrictions the next couple days were panning out to be.  
That or he’d come down with a nasty case of cabin fever. 

So, putting on his clothes for the day, Joe glanced in his mirror and nodded at the convicted face it reflected back at him.  
He was gonna do something fun today. He owed it to himself.

Grumbling at the great difficulty in ‘pulling’ on his boots with the use of only one hand, Joe thought of how nice it would be to take a little ride through the nearby woods. The paths were well worn and cleared regularly, so he wouldn’t have to worry about jumping obstacles or having to turn back halfway.  
Yeah, he thought, giving his hair a quick comb, he’d sneak out _directly_ after breakfast, and he’d let the Ponderosa pines show him a good time. Cochise’d love it too!

So, after filling his belly on some top quality cooking, compliments Hop Sing, Joe waited for Hoss and their pa to step away from the table and out of sight, before hurrying himself out the front door. 

A quiet ride was gonna be a great distraction from ‘resting’. So long as he could get Cochise saddled- No. His arm hurt just _thinking_ of doing that. Enough that he paused on the porch to give his plans a second thinking over. 

Hm. He could never mind the saddle. He’d ridden bareback plenty times, so all he needed was her bridle... which he couldn’t work the cinchers on with only one working hand. Not quickly anyway.  
He could probably never mind that too. He had gotten some experience taking her out in her soft, rope halter in a pinch. And on a cushy ride like the one he was planning? Didn’t even really need a bridle in the first place. Cochise was a good horse after all. 

Yep. Everything would work out just fine, Joe thought as he stepped off the front porch on a beeline for the barn. So long as he didn’t-

“Joseph? Where are you headed this fine morning?” Get caught. Uh-oh. 

Joe turned to see his father walking hatless from the front door, right for him. Ben never left the house without his trusty hat, so he must’ve heard sneaky bootsteps on the porch and rushed out to head them off.  
“Pa, I swear it, I’m just goin’ out to read a book on th-the paddock fence out here. You know; fresh air bein’ good for the soul and all,” Joe said, in his most convincing tone. 

“Mmhm. Is that so?” Joe nodded at the stern look. “Well, then why is it you’re wearing your riding gloves?” Ben asked, pointing to the offending, damning evidence. 

“Uh... They make me feel like I’m really dressed? Sir,” Joe tacked on for good measure. 

“Mmhm. Dressed for riding? Joseph?”

“Eh-heh?” Said the son who’d been caught red hand- er, _black_ gloved. Unsure how to deflect the oncoming wrath.  
“L-listen, I can explain _every_ -“

“No need, Joseph. No need,” his pa said, surprising Joe by shaking his head in a disarming fashion. “I know you resent being cooped up for so long, with instructions not to ride. ‘Grounded’, so to speak. But tearing off after your friend... Candy,” he said the name as if he’d had to try hard to remember it, even though Joe _knew_ he’d memorized it within five minutes of signing him on to the Ponderosa work force, “just won’t do, Joe. I sent him in your stead for a _reason_.”

“I know, Pa: I can’t rope, wrangle, nor be of any help with a tender paw,” Joe said, head starting to hang. 

“Now, that’s not true. Not most of it anyway,” Ben insisted. “You could be of great help regardless most any physical limitations.” Joe looked up at the encouraging words. “But, in _this_ case, Candy is a wonderful, willing substitute and therefore, you are free to pursue instead another, _far_ more noble use of your time:” Joe held his breath as his pa paused to leave room for a guess that he **knew** wasn’t coming. “Healing.”

“Oh, but, Pa-“

“But nothing, son,” his father hushed, a gentle yet firm hand finding its way over the pair of younger shoulders and helping steer Joe away from the bountiful temptations of the outside world, back up the porch, through the front door, and into the relative safety of their comfortably appointed living room. “Very few people ever wasted their efforts nor time healing. Reading too is a worthwhile endeavor and I encourage its pursuit,” he intoned, pulling his youngest son down to sit beside him on the sofa. Arm still across the compact shoulders, as if he were suspicious Joe might make a run for it if he removed it. 

“Well, Pa, nothing against healing an’ all, but what if I lose my edge? Huh? What if I forget h-how to-to-to rope a dogie? Huh? What’ll happen to all those poor motherless calves then?” Joe asked, trying to be subtle about shirking his father’s clutches and getting absolutely nowhere with it. 

“Well, I never heard of an expert rancher ‘losing an edge’ over a few days of recuperation,” Ben said, quite sensibly. 

“Yeah, but, hasn’t it _been_ a few days? I think I can already feel the dulling,” Joe said, just about resigned to the utter inescapability of Ben Cartwright’s well practiced fatherly ‘embrace’. 

“It’s been one. **Barely**. The evening you rode up half asleep and filthy does _not_ count and it’s too early this day to add to the tally just yet.”

“Yes, Sir,” Joe said in response to the hint of brimstone he could smell on the words. 

“Joseph.”

“Mmhm?” Joe asked, eyes downcast. 

“This is not a form of punishment. This is a company imposed vacation for someone who both deserves and _needs_ it. Do you understand?”

“Mmhm.”

“What was that, Joseph?”

“Yes, Pa.”

“Good lad. Now, why don’t you take off those gloves, boots too if it pleases you, pull out that book I saw you enjoying yesterday after dinner, and relax awhile? Hm?”

“Well, uh, one-one thing about that, Pa?”

“Mm?”

“You wouldn’t think it, but it’s kinda hard turnin’ all those pages with the same hand you’re holding a book in.”

“Ah. That would be why the good Lord gave you a nose,” Ben said with a wry smirk. “I thought they’d’ve taught that in Sunday school?”

“Oh. Maybe I missed that day,” Joe said, given pause by the novel sentiment. “I’ll give that a try,” said while using a combination of front teeth and gumption to remove his uninjured arm’s black glove. 

“Then it’s settled!” The man with the silver hair said, freeing up Joe’s shoulders to give his own hands a good clap. “A nice read is better than taking off after a friend who _agreed_ to take over your appointment while you recovered any old day,” Ben insisted. Likely aware he was still falling just a tad short of the ‘convincing Joe’ mark, but obviously pleased by the progress he _had_ made. 

“About that:” Joe started, at the risk of sounding repetitive. “I _had_ been thinking of going out for a ride, but I wasn’t gonna ‘tear off’. I just wanted to give Cochise a stretch before she started thinkin’ I’d forgotten about her,” Joe said, reasonably. 

“Oh, I don’t think she’d ever forget about you. You spoil that horse after all. Too many carrots and apples and sugar cubes,” Ben said in mock fatherly disapproval. “Don’t worry: I’ll have our groom put her in the paddock for some well earned relaxation.”

“Oh, so now you wanna ‘not punish’ my _horse_ too?!” Joe said in mock childish disapproval. 

“Absolutely.” Said with a straight face as the senior Cartwright levered himself to a stand. 

“Alright then. Now that we understand each other, I think I’m ‘bout ready to start on that ‘relaxation’ I’ve heard so much about,” Joe said as he picked his book off the coffee table. Right where he’d left it the night before. 

Ben chuckled and made for the door. “A good idea if ever I heard one!” Then, hat on his head where it belonged, one hand grasping the doorknob, ready to twist and win himself some sunshine, the proud father glanced back and gave his head a fond shake.  
“And, Joseph?”

“Yeah, Pa?”

“Keep your feet off the table.”


	5. Duty Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Candy's back! Adam's coming home too! Joe's been looking forward to this ever since they took off. Let's see what happens when they return, shall we? :D

Candy hadn’t had the opportunity for a bath in... three days? Five? And he couldn’t quite recall whether he’d taken advantage of the chance when he’d had it. All he knew for sure was that, next time he came near a tub, he wasn’t even going to ask if there was warm water to go with it.  
On second thought, he didn’t want a cold bath. He deserved at least the comfort of heated water after that business of him being second in command of a small cattle march. 

When they’d officially finished with situating the small herd and it was time for the majority of folks to go home, Candy’d offered to keep Adam company on the trail. Considering they _were_ headed the same direction.  
The foreman had made a face at him which _reminded_ Candy of smiling, and informed him that, “I’ve a homesteader or two to check in on while I’m out this way. I won’t be too far behind you.”

And now that he was just about back, having made the trip alone, his entire mind and body were demanding he stop using them and either go to sleep **early** , or find something enjoyably _non_ work related to do until such time as he could navigate his way to bed. Considering it wasn’t even dinner time yet.  
Might be nice to fit a meal in there somewhere too.

As he came up the drive toward the Ponderosa main house, he swung down off his horse and walked the length of the barn using the reigns as a lead rope, knowing his legs would eventually thank him for the stretch. 

It wasn’t that Candy hadn’t enjoyed his time in the upper pasture; with all the cows and the team and the trail dust and the almost surly big brother for a boss.  
It was more that he _really_ enjoyed being back where he usually called home. Back in the administrative center for the giant swath of land known as the Ponderosa.  
Back near the main ranch house and, he freely admitted, to his best friend in all of the Nevada territory: Joseph Cartwright. 

A Joe Cartwright who, Candy saw as he and his horse rounded the barn, was sitting on a fence, thumbing all pathetic like through a little book, and payin’ no mind to either the Cochise filled paddock in front of him, nor the open yard behind him.  
An absolute opportunity of a lifetime. One Candy, in his wildest dreams, couldn’t imagine passing up and one he was busy taking advantage of right that moment; motioning his trail tuckered horse to ‘stay’ and sneaking with feather footsteps all the way close. Not disturbing a pebble. Calling on the years he’d spent in army forts with the other brats, pretending they were Apache hunters, to pad through the little patch of grass without disturbing a blade. 

Didn’t make a _sound_ until he was close enough to hear the soft sound of Joe’s utterly relaxed breathing, and then-

“ **Boo**!” 

Then Candy found himself scrambling to catch a full grown Cartwright as he slipped backwards off the fence. 

A double arm full of Joe, and the feeling of a yelp echoing around inside his head, Candy thanked his fool self for having sneaked within reach before spooking the guy he’d sorta, kinda forgotten all about being in a sling. Who wouldn’t have been able to catch himself without making things considerably worse for his wrist. 

But Candy shoved that out of his mind, knowing concern over his health was the _last_ thing his friend would have any interest in after the last few days he’d spent cooped up, and focused instead on how ridiculous a situation he’d managed to bring about.  
Joe, lower half hanging off the high fence he’d been using as a seat, upper half supported by a giggling, dirty as sin, cow punch who he couldn’t possibly have known had just gotten back from the cattle business in the upper pasture. 

“Geez, Candy! You really know how to make a guy feel special,” said Joe. Going from spooked to indignant in no time flat. Just as soon as he realized who it was hadn’t let him hit the ground.  
Head swiveling when his hat tipped backwards off his crown and plopped right on over and off Candy’s shoulder. 

“Well, now. Any interest in gettin’ yer feet on solid ground? Today?” Candy asked. Starting to feel the weight of his surprised passenger. 

“You’re the one keeping me here!”

“Oh. Right. Well, let’s see if we can’t straighten that out,” said the guy with half a Cartwright resting on his chest. 

Several seconds later found the two of them dusting themselves off after a rather tricky disentangling, and Joe over his shock well enough that he was ready for the pleasantries part of their reunion. 

“How’d it go? Loose any head?”

“Oh, none to speak of. Didn’t come across any wolves nor wildcats, so the pastures’re lookin’ pretty safe,” Candy said, humoring the work talk. For the moment. 

“Good. Shouldn’t need to much upkeep then. How’s Adam? Was he...?”

“Adam? Oh, I couldn’t possibly judge his mood.” At the worried look, Candy raised an eyebrow and explained, “Because I barely know the guy. This is the first time we’ve worked on the same team, let alone spoken more’n a ‘good morning’ to each other in a day.”

Joe’s face puckered minutely before smoothing back to standard. “Right, right. In that case: What do ya think of him?”

“Well, it wasn’t a social visit, so we didn’t have time for much chattin’, but, I think we could be friends. If he ever stopped workin’ long enough to try.”

“Ha! I _knew_ he hadn’t changed,” Joe said, giving his hat a slap across his knee as he plucked it from the dirt. “Good ol’ Adam. Never disappoints. Don’t worry; he tends to grow on you.”

“I’ll bet,” Candy said with an incline of the head. Heartened by the glowing recommendation. The one no doubt slanted by nepotism. 

“You _did_ volunteer.” Joe reminded. 

“Yep. And I’d do it again. Like I said: A little divine intervention could see Adam and me friends. You never know.” The shrug at the end really sold it. 

“You’re a riot, you know that, Canaday?”

“Can’t say that I do, but I **do** know my stomach’s ‘bout ready to cough up dust it’s so empty. Y’all got any eats ‘round here?” Candy didn’t think laughing the best response, but seeing Joe enjoying himself, possibly for the first time in days, made waiting for his answer worthwhile. 

“Oh, I’ll bet I can get you an invite to dinner, so long as you don’t show up lookin’ like _that_.”

“What’s wrong with the way I look?” Candy asked. Feigning affront. 

“Oh, nothin’. So long as the thought you want folks thinkin’ is, ‘what the cat dragged in’,” Joe said. Obviously far too entertained to even _think_ of keeping his laughter inside. 

“Well, you wouldn’t look much better if _you’d_ just come back from a few days out on the upper pasture,” Candy challenged. 

“Ha, yeah. Not _much_ , but ‘better’ all the same!” 

And the laughter carried the two friends off in their respective next directions. Joe to ask Hop Sing to have an extra setting for their returned guest, and Candy to ask one of the ranch’s fine grooms to pretty please curry the caked in dirt out of his horse’s coat and get her settled in for the evening.  
After that, he was free to see to that warm bath he’d been dreaming up and then... he had a dinner to attend. 

 

~

 

It was the first dinner in the Ponderosa main house that’d seen Candy _and_ Adam at the table at the same time. Felt like a very full lineup, but not necessarily overcrowded. Just plenty conversation to go around. Not a dull moment. 

“Say, Candy?” The man in question paused the fun he was having offering to spoon feed the ‘One Armed’ Joe, and tried not to look surprised as he turned to the guy in all black, seated crossways from him.  
“I could use some help again tomorrow with a little essaying project needs checking in on. Are you available?

“Can’t say I have anything planned,” Candy said, a quick glance to the seat beside his confirming that Joe _too_ was doing his best to pretend the wind hadn’t just gone out of his sails.  
But there hadn’t been much else Candy could have said. After all, if Adam’s own brother didn’t want to be on his bad side, an _employee_ better avoid it like the plague. 

“Fine then. Right after breakfast? Uh, Pa?”

“Mm?” The man at the head of the table asked. Mouth busy chewing.

“Hop Sing wouldn’t mind yet another meal with an additional mouth to feed?”

“Nonsense. He _loves_ cooking for company! Isn’t that right, Hop Sing?” Ben called over his shoulder. The sound of something large being pounded and what sounded like foreign cursing seeming to bring a smile to the patriarch’s face before he turned his attention front again.  
“It’s fine by him.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll eat here. That way there won’t be any unaccounted for delay,” Adam said, giving both his father and their dinner guest a nod before going back to his chicken and mashed potatoes. 

“Sounds delightful,” Candy assured. Knowing Joe would understand. They’d have time to spend together _after_ he and Adam got back. Again. 

 

~

 

When dinner was finished, Candy had about enough energy left to watch Joe beat the pants off Hoss at a good natured game of checkers. Halfway through which, his eyes started closing on their own accord and threatening to _stay_ that way.  
So, to the tunes of a ‘Dag burn it, Joe, how’d’ya always eek out a win like that?’, Candy chuckled as he excused himself, and shuffled his way to an early sleep. One that went completely uninterrupted until someone in the bunk house threw a wadded up shirt at him on their way out, alerting him that he was the last one up and that he better shake a leg if he was planning on eating that morning. 

Breakfast at the main house came and went and Joe followed him and Adam out to see them off, looking like he wouldn’t have liked anything better than to go with them. Standing in the drive and watching the two of them ride off. Flexing the fingers of his injured hand in a futilistic sort of way. At least, he was every time Candy sent ‘one last look’ back to check whether Joe was still just standing there. 

Not long after the Cartwright house disappeared from view and the guy who’d been hoping to spend at least _some_ of his work day goofing around with his best friend had resigned himself to instead a day of strict productivity, Adam, of all people, offered some conversation. Without outside provocation.  
“You know that I spent a few years abroad?”

“Yeah, Joe told me you went to sea, landed in Australia, did some building designing, got bored and come back,” Candy said. Both hiding any sense of surprise and **severely** shortening the many parables of Adam’s travels he’d heard from Joe on he and his numerable trips to town. 

“Huh. I suppose that is _one_ way to summarize it,” Adam said. For once sounding somewhat entertained. “Did he mention that _he_ was the one who wrote _me_?” 

“He mentioned gettin’ letters from ya. Lots of letters. Shown me the Australia postmarks. Real proud of those,” Candy informed. Bemused. 

“Hm.” Adam informed. Bemused. “I never would have guessed it, but our Joseph has quite the knack for the epistolary.”

“Uh?” Candy asked. Suspecting he’d need to know what that meant if he was gonna keep up.

“Writing letters.” Adam explained, not an ounce of superiority in it. Which Candy appreciated. “He wrote more letters than our pa and Hoss combined. Sometimes didn’t wait for a reply before shootin’ off another.” Adam smiled. Which on him, appeared a small, private action. “Sometimes I think he’s the biggest reason I came back.”

Candy had to keep from jerking in his saddle at that. “You ever mention that to Joe?”

“ _God_ no,” the rider in black exclaimed with a chortle. “And neither will you: It’d go right to his head.”

Candy joined in with a chuckle of his own, knowing the older brother was one-hundred percent correct. 

“No, maybe someday when we’re both grey haired and he’s matured the rest of the way... maybe then I’ll tell him. _Until_ such a time;” he started, inflection indicating he was about to change the subject, “I hear he’s bored out of his mind and starting to feel left out on account of us forcing him to stay home. Where he’d, by the way, have great difficulty injuring himself further.” Candy watched the minute look of concern come to and leave Adam’s face.  
Well, that tore it all right. That and everything the guy had just gotten through sharing. Big brother _did_ care. No matter how outwardly cavalier his attitude. 

Candy perked as a thought came to him. “Well, I got a day off tomorrow. Maybe I can do somethin’ to cheer him up.”

“Picnic.”

“Come again?” Candy asked, leaning closer to the other mount and rider. Thinking perhaps he’d misheard a trail dust sneeze as the word-

“Picnic.” Nope. He’d heard right. But that didn’t make his face any less surprised when Adam looked over at him in utter seriousness and added, “Take the buggy and team, _I’ll_ have Hop Sing prepare a basket, and take that stir crazy brother of mine somewhere he can’t get himself in any more trouble.” Then the man in all black faced front again and made sure his horse missed a small crag in the ground. 

“Wait just a second; what makes you think Joe would even _enjoy_ such a thing?”

“Are you kidding? Joe loves picnics,” Adam informed. Unperturbed. 

“With such a somebody as myself?” Candy asked, trying to catch the other guy’s eye to help convey his severe misgivings. 

“You’re his friend, aren’t you?” Adam said, giving him a sideways glance. 

“‘Course, but, Joe tends not to take just any old friend on a picnic. Those he reserves for ‘special’ friends,” Candy said, inflection exaggerated. Hoping Adam got the point without him needing to spell it out. 

“You _are_ a special friend. Always getting that no account out of trouble- And the fact that he _lets_ you?” Adam raised at least one eyebrow, was hard to tell with him studying the trail ahead, and made a strange nodding motion. “He’ll enjoy it.”

“What makes you so sure?” Candy asked, a hint of challenge in the words. 

“Because,” said Adam, that same challenge pointed right back at the man in red. “I **know** him. He’s my baby brother.” The look he sent and the book end finality he delivered it with signaled the end of discussion. 

So Candy decided he just plain better spend the rest of the day getting used to the idea of Adam being the boss of his entire _life_ from that point on.  
Huh. Come to think of it, Joe’d probably warned him his oldest brother could be like that. Nothing but pure logic could deter him once determined.  
Even so, Candy felt it was his duty to take one more stab at getting Adam to see sense. 

“What if he doesn’t _want_ to go?”

“Oh, he will.”

“But, what-“

“Make something up. Tell him,” Adam turned some in his saddle, probably to be sure the thickheaded cow hand next to him couldn’t miss his instructions. “Tell him Pa wants some timber inspected, but still doesn’t want him riding. Then just stop somewhere and eat.” He turned forward again. “He’ll forget all about the timber. Trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, no fair! That reunion was way too short! Hopefully the time apart will be worth it somehow!


	6. The Picnic

When morning came, Candy once again woke just in time to get his hands on some breakfast, Adam having invited him once more to join them at the main house.  
At the table, Joe asked what he had planned for the day, in a low voice which Candy was sure everyone else heard anyway. He still appreciated the attempt at subtlety and whispered back, “Meet me behind the barn, after this.”  
Joe’d nodded, glanced around to be sure he was the only one that’d heard, and tried his best to go back to eating his eggs as if he _wasn’t_ suddenly too excited to eat. 

Candy looked around the table and was satisfied that the only face which looked at him and the guy in the sling any different than usual, was the one right across from him, and that one didn’t count anyway, considering Adam was the one who’d put him up to the day’s coming shenanigans to begin with.  
Wasn’t a _bad_ different either. Just... more amused. 

Soon as the food had all disappeared, Candy’d left to get everything in order and Joe’d settled himself at the sofa, doing a pretty good job of looking like he was actually reading the book he picked off the coffee table.  
After the other Cartwrights had taken off to see to chores, Joe’d sneaked out of the big house and made his way out back of the barn. Stopping in his tracks at the sight Candy knew he hadn’t been expecting. 

 

~

 

“And he _said_ , ‘Take Joseph and the buggy and team and inspect some timber.’? Were those his _exact_ words? Because I’m not interested in explaining why I wasn’t home all day and why the buggy’s axle needs regreasing if-“

“Joe, would I steer you wrong?” Candy asked, stepping up into the buggy’s driver’s side and checking the brake was still engaged. 

“Oh, don’t start with _that_ one, Candy Canaday,” Joe said at him from solid ground. “You know well as me the kind of trouble we-“

“We’ve gotten into _together_ , my dear Joseph. But that was the past, and today is a fresh start that just so happened to start with your dear old pa asking us to inspect some timber. Now,” Candy said, moving to the shotgun side of the buggy and offering a hand to the green jacketed guy, “are you in?”

Joe squinted right on past the hand and into Candy’s face. Studying for signs of duplicity or mischief, perhaps.  
After a few long seconds, Candy felt the eyes trail on down to his outstretched arm and he nearly sighed in relief when a gloved hand reached up and took his.  
Not saving more then a thought to the puzzle of how he’d passed the test, deciding that Joe probably figured whatever trouble they might possibly get themselves into would be better than spending yet another perfectly good day inside, Candy helped guide his friend up onto the passenger side of the little bench and then took his own seat. 

Pulling the reigns from their holder, he released the brake and gave Joe a sidelong glance. “Since when has _work_ been so tempting?”

“Just drive.”

So with a chuckle, Candy did just that, and marveled at how precisely Adam had pegged it after all.  
Yep. The eldest Cartwright brother had been right. It really wasn’t all that difficult to get Joe in the buggy. And judging by the affected sulky hunch; his passenger was already fast on his way to enjoying himself. 

“So which section of timberline he want inspected this fine mornin’?” Candy heard drawled from next to him on the seat. 

“You know how your pa can be; pointed in a thisaway direction and said to survey around and see what we could see.” 

“Hm. That’s interesting, because I _do_ know how he can be, and, you know, just in general, it’s nothing at **all** like that.” The disbelief was evident. 

“Maybe he saw you goin’ stir crazy and decided to head that off before something ‘happened’,” Candy offered. Knowing it would sound genuine because that was actually what had happened. Except, of course, for the fact that it hadn’t been Ben who put him on the case. 

Joe sat a spell, thinking it over. Before long, he sat straighter and stretched out his legs just a hair. Getting comfy.  
“He _did_ catch me trying to not die of boredom a couple times.”

“See? Use yer noggin’, you can find the reason to anyone’s madness,” Candy said, double checking he had the correct hold on the buggy team’s reigns.  
Wasn’t often he drove a buggy. Was far more used to the four in hand style of reigning, on account of there being so many big loads to move around on a place as big as the Ponderosa, so the simpler setup always surprised him with its breezy ease. 

The only noise for at least a furlong was the quiet springing action of the buggy’s suspension and the steady clip-clop of the well trained team along the dirt path. Passenger looking off to one side; clearly enjoying his first taste of freedom in days. Going so far as to doff his hat and let the breeze play with his hair. 

Approaching a fork in the road, the driver made up his mind that he was going to pretend he knew exactly what he was doing and not ask the guy sitting next to him which way the horse’s should take them. Instead just twitching the reigns and directing the team toward the path more heavily forested.  
They _were_ inspecting timber, after all. 

A ways down that path, which just so happened to have a pleasant rolling up and down about it, shotgun minus the shotgun readjusted his sling arm and moved his eyes front.  
“Hm.” Joe hummed.

“Hm?” Candy hummed back. Curious. 

“If we weren’t still too close to the house, this timber right here would be perfect for logging,” pointed out the youngest of the most conscientious timber magnate dynasty Candy’d ever met.  
Not that he’d met many, but the description held none the less. Considering tales of treachery and general nastiness tend to spread. Especially with the kind of far flung folks who were known to blow through the nearby towns any given Sunday. Never know who you’ll run into. And, inversely, who _they’d_ already run into. 

“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna be settin’ off charges in your own backyard,” Candy offered. 

“No kidding,” Joe agreed, leaning back against the backboard of the bench seat. Shoulder brushing against Candy’s as he did. 

Another stretch of road went by without a human voice to break up the sounds of the buggy’s progress. Aside from the stray tappings of a woodpecker or the trilling call of some flitting finch. 

At length, Candy looked beside himself to study his friend’s face, in the interest of figuring whether the guy was still enjoying the outing.  
Little tougher to tell with his eyes shut, but it _looked_ like Joe was soaking in the sound of the outdoors and doing something in a horse drawn conveyance that he probably hadn’t managed in the comfort of his own home: Relaxing. 

Smiling to himself, Candy navigated them around a bough that looked like it had sheared off a magnificent ponderosa pine in a recent storm. Because it took up most of that chunk of path, it was necessary to run just a little bit off road. The feeling of which prompted Joe’s eyes open and he sat forward in his seat as if checking if there was anything he should be doing to help.  
When he saw that his assistance was not required, he sagged back enough to once again pass for relaxing and let his breathing even out. 

Getting them back on the straight and narrow, Candy figured it was about time for a little more conversation.  
“I been wonderin’,” he started. “Was bein’ cooped up and shielded from the perils of this big bad world as bad as it sounds?”

“No, it was a walk in the park,” Joe informed. Flatly. 

“Aw, c’mon, Joe; I won’t make fun. Honest.” Candy put a hand over his heart and gave shotgun his most angelic look. Trying to get a rise out of him.  
Almost worked too. 

As it was, Joe smirked at Candy’s humor and tucked his chin just a hair closer to his own chest.  
“I almost went crazy.” Said _almost_ seriously. 

“Mmhm,” Candy acknowledged, sounding as if he’d suspected as much. “What stopped you?”

Joe gave him a further amused look and offered, “Oh, I don’t know. My natural resilience? And... I’m pretty sure they put in an effort.”

“Who?”

“You know dern well ‘who’,” Joe said, playing at indignant. “Hoss, our pa, and Hop Sing.”

“Ah. That who.”

“Uh-huh, ‘that who’ indeed,” Joe grumbled. Posture improving despite the tone. “Do you want to know more or not?”

“Oh, I’m all ears, Joseph. Thanks for clearing up who we was talkin’ ‘bout first though,” Candy said. Eyes on the road as it took a sudden steeper tilt upward. 

Joe scoffed, sounding like he wanted to cross his arms but realized at the last moment that the sling would really get in the way of that. 

“I mean it! Would I ask if I didn’t wanna know?” The two sitting on the small buggy bench shared a sardonic glance. Which prompted snorts from both.

“Fine. Let’s just suppose you _do_ care-“

“Which I do-“

“-and I won’t spare the gritty details.”

“That would be appreciated,” Candy said with a nod. 

Joe shook his head and sighed, settling in for a little story time.  
“Well, let me see now,” he said, giving his jaw a pensive rub. “Yes, it’s coming back to me: Pa and Hoss didn’t work a late day. Though that could easily be collusion on their part to keep me from having any _real_ fun. But they put in the effort to read in the same room or- Oh, Pa broke out the Shakespeare! And some poufy hat with a giant feather stickin’ off one side. Paraded around the den all, ‘To be or not to be?’ **That** was something.”

“‘S’pose I should’a guessed yer pa knew the bard,” Candy intoned, doing his best to sound sage. 

“Well, not personally.” At that, the two of them ended up snorting again. 

“No, I wouldn’t figure.”

“Good thing too; he wouldn’t take it as a compliment,” Joe informed. Lips tilting up at the corners. 

“‘Course not. Yer pa doesn’t look a day over a hundred and fifty.” Joe turned to eye Candy, one eyebrow raised. 

“Would you like me to pass it along, or will you be giving him that complement in person?”

“Heh, maybe this can be one of those private sort of _confidential_ compliments? Between friends?” Candy asked, pulse quickening.  
The look Joe gave him in answer doing nothing to slow it back down. 

After a double beat, the guy who had the power to snitch and get Candy fired cracked a grin and broke the silence. “Yeah alright. Wouldn’t want it going to his head; you thinkin’ so highly of him.”

Candy exhaled and relaxed. About the same time he realized the guy in the sling would never do anything that had a possibility of getting him fired.  
They were friends after all. _Best_ friends. 

“So, home theatre and... Hop Sing taught me how to play weiqi.”

“Oh?” Prompted Candy, hoping to find out what in the world Joe’d just said without having to ask. 

“Yeah, walked out of the kitchen one night, carryin’ a lined board and a couple bowls full of tiny stones. From his ‘personal quarters’, he said. Gave me the bowl full of black stones and told me to bow, then we started puttin’ them on the little line intersections. Lasted a pretty long time too.”

“So you _did_ have some fun without me!” Enthused the driver. 

“Oh, not really. Time we finished, I still didn’t understand the rules and he said I’d lost by over a hundred points. Not enough ‘territory’. And he had a fat stack of my pieces in his bowl lid. Said he’d poked out most of my ‘eyes’, or- or something.”

Candy laughed at the look that passed over Joe’s face at the memory. Not quite afraid, but it was obvious the guy definitely never wanted to play whatever game that was again.  
“Well, that sounds like what happens any ol’ time you and Hoss break out the checkers board! Doesn’t he usually end up owing you a whole bag of peppermints by the end of the week?”

“Yep. And he always pays up too.”

“Ever get boring playing someone you can’t lose to?”

“Oh, Hoss could beat me,” Joe said. Playing up the pause to pique Candy’s interest. “He’d just need to play me while I’m sleeping!”

“Ha!” Barked the driver, quieting some when he noticed the horse’s ears flip back towards the noise. 

“What about you? Have any unusual fun on the assignment?” Joe asked. 

“Oh, I like sleepin’ under the stars much as the next saddle tramp,” Candy commented. Tone light. 

“Huh?”

“Just somethin’ yer pa said. A while back,” Candy said, waving one hand dismissively. “But, it was _something_ to see that brother of yours at work. Man really does expect excellence.”

“Mmhm. Though, I’ll swear to it: He’s tougher on folks got the same last name as him,” Joe nodded. 

Candy gave a nod of his own and thought back over the things he and Adam had spoken about over the few days they’d worked together. On the upper pasture and otherwise.  
“I got a feelin’ it’s ‘cause he cares that much more ‘bout folks what share his last name.”

He looked over in time to see a small, private smile grow on his passenger’s face. One that reminded Candy of a certain other Cartwright he’d had a conversation with the previous day.  
The two really _must’ve_ been brothers after all. 

 

~

 

“There!” Candy said, along with a full arm pointing off road. Breaking up another stretch of... not silence, but comfortable quiet. 

“What? Where?” Candy had to laugh when Joe practically popped right out of his seat with the shock. Questions coming out in a surprise laced confusion.

“There’s where we should tie the team while we have lunch,” Candy stated. Matter of factly. 

“Lunch?” 

“You are just _full_ of questions today, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah? Well at least I’m not full of _myself_ ,” Joe grumbled, more to himself than his driver. Who snickered as he reigned the team off road and into some sparse growing shade trees.  
“If we throw a wheel, you _know_ who’s putting it back by **himself** , right?” Joe added with a cringe as the going got a little bumpy.

“Well, we’re all in luck; this is as far as we go!” Candy declared, just as the sight of a sparkling lake revealed itself on the bottom side of a gentle downward slope, past where the trees grew just a smidge sparser. 

Joe whipped his head from the wonder over to where Candy was setting the buggy’s brake and securing the reigns for a smooth disembark.  
“You knew that was there?”

“It might be worth remembering that I know just about everything,” Candy said as he hopped down. Enjoying the funny sputtering noise the guy who hadn’t made to leave the buggy yet made.  
“No, truth be told, I thought I heard a duck and liked the look of this grass. Good for sittin’ on.” As he spoke, the red shirted chauffeur began unhitching the team, knowing, or at least _hoping_ , that lunch was going to take a while. Pretty sure he felt eyes on him as he worked, Candy did his best not to fumble any of the buckles and in no time flat, had the two horses with a healthy glow about them secured to trees near the buggy. They blew some air at him, grateful for the time off. He rubbed their noses in thanks for a well behaved job well done.  
Then he turned back to the buggy. 

“What’s this talk of food, Canaday?” 

Candy grinned as he made his way over. “Well, just like he took the time to show you the true meaning of defeat, Hop Sing took the time to pack you lunch.” At the look of bewilderment, the guy with all the cards offered his hand and helped his confused friend out of the resting buggy. Then, giving Joe a wry smile, he reached underneath the bench and extricated a pristine-

“Picnic basket? Since when does Hop Sing pack _picnic baskets_?”

“He made you that sling, didn’t he?” Candy pointed out. Entertained when Joe’s only reaction was turning away to hide a faint blush.  
Giving the basket a heft, Candy indicated the body of water not far off. “Wanna eat by yonder pond, or does by the horses suit ya better?” He held in a guffaw when one half of the buggy’s team snorted and dropped a hefty little ‘surprise’. The other horse flipping its tail in the first one’s face at the thoughtful gesture. 

He went ahead and chuckled when Joe took one look at the neat little heap and took off for the water. 

 

~

 

Candy’d been right. He _had_ heard a duck. Where he’d been wrong, was in thinking there was only _one_ duck. For, as it turned out, there was one full grown duck and at least a half dozen peeping ducklings all following the big one around in circles by the water’s edge. Tripping over each other in their endearing clumsiness and doing their best to stay upright while trying to suck crumbs of people food out of the mud. 

He looked over at a Joe who just happened to be mirroring his reclining sprawl on his own side of the blanket. The basket between them laying open and revealing the scraps of a delicious meal.  
Surprising all parties, the taciturn Ponderosa chef had included a jar of sweet tea packed with care between the loaf of bread and the blanket Candy and Joe’d spread out on the sloping bank of the hillock overlooking the watery evidence of Mother Nature’s genius.  
Though, Candy’d done most of the actual spreading. Mostly because he’d wanted to; not because Joe was unwilling to help.  
Though the guy with two working arms would admit if pressed, that his friend wasn’t quite as fast at _moving_ that fine day, what with being mindful of his sling and all, in reality, Candy just didn’t want to watch Joe struggle. 

So instead, he watched his friend giggle at the baby ducks as the big duck quacked at them to stop plucking out each other's feathers.  
Candy found the sight, along with the sound of familiar laughter, brought about a warm feeling to compliment the full belly lunch had given him and he said another silent thanks to the man who never spoke English to him for putting the picnic together. Then sent a silent thanks to Adam as well, for having forced him to spend his off day ‘working’ with the guy’s youngest brother, who just so happened to be _his_ best friend. 

“You get a load of those stinkers?” Joe asked, motioning with his sling covered arm to where a duckling was grudgingly giving another a piggyback ride. Which ended with both flopping over into a puddle, hopping back up covered in mud and flapping stub wings at each other. 

“Ha! Those two remind me of a certain pair of brothers I happen to know!”

Joe scoffed at the comparison. Rolling his eyes in place of deigning to respond. 

“You might know ‘em,” Candy insisted. “One’s big as a hoss, other’s scrawny; wears a lot of beige and green. Ring any bells?”

“Y-you can just forget about being friends if that’s the way you wanna talk about my brother,” Joe said, taking a break from watching the ducks by the water to give Candy a pointed look. “He is _much_ larger than your average hoss.”

Yeah, Candy thought as the two of them cackled at the middle Cartwright brother’s expense, Joe was **definitely** enjoying himself. Things were shaping up the way Adam had predicted after all.  
Huh. 

Another thought entered Candy’s head as that particular conversation came back to him.  
Did some of that smile on his friend’s face have something to do with the mind behind it making future plans for this place? With... other, perhaps, more ‘appealing’ individuals?

Deciding he didn’t like the taste of that idea, nor of the feeling letting it stay an unvoiced mystery would ultimately bring, Candy adjusted his hat and spoke what was on his mind.  
“Would you just _look_ at that view,” he started, gesturing in earnestness. “Make ya wish you had somebody else out here, sharin’ this picnic? A prim and proper lady maybe?” 

“No. Not at the moment,” Joe said. Tone breezy. 

“Yer not thinkin’ of some special someone; lookin’ out at that beautiful view? Look! A stork just plucked a fish straight outta the water! If this ain’t the kind of place you bring a little lady, I don’t know what is.”

“Oh, I don’t know. This feels special enough to me,” Joe said. To which Candy nearly cricked his neck his head turned so quick. 

“You mean that?”

“Yeah,” Joe said, doing as Candy’d asked and just soaking in the magnificent view. “Yeah, I do.” Then the ranchero in the sling looked over to the guy having a hard time processing what he was hearing.  
“You _did_ save my life the other day. And it turns out,” he said, picking at the remnants of pie crust they hadn’t already thrown at the ducklings. “Almost dying; sometimes you get yourself a better appreciation of the simple things. Like a nice meal, a good piece of land... a special friend.”

Candy watched as Joe popped a crumble of crust in his own mouth and hoped the guy didn’t look back at him until he was finished with it, because he could feel a redness crawling up his cheeks from his collar and they hadn’t been in direct sun enough to pass it off as a burn.  
All while musing that it was almost as if Joe knew exactly what Adam had told him on their ride the day before. Or, perhaps, the steadfast eldest really did **know** his ‘baby brother’.  
“Thanks, Joe. I feel the same,” Candy managed. Breaking his stare to look out at the view again. 

“Do you?” Asked Joe. A fond chuckle coloring his voice. 

“Absolutely,” said Candy. A fond seriousness coloring his.  
The tone drew Joe’s eyes to him, a question hidden in their depth. Evident though, to those who knew him, in the set of his brow. “I too appreciate a good meal.”

To that Joe picked his hat off the picnic blanket and swatted it at Candy’s shoulder. Missing by inches when the red shirted annoyance rolled completely off the gingham cloth and to his feet in the grass of their idyllic eating place. 

“Why you-“

“Now, Joe. What ever happened to you appreciatin’ the little things?” Candy pleaded. 

“Maybe I wasn’t talkin’ about your off color sense of humor! Ever think about _that_?”

“Joe, you wound me,” Candy said, making a slow return to the comfort of his side of the glorified table cloth. Making sure he wasn’t about to get wounded by a hat next. 

“Yeah, well you’re impossible,” Joe informed. Ignoring his blanketmate in favor of studying the gentle swoop of a crane landing to wade in the shallower waters near their edge of the lake. 

“Yeah, well, only the best for a special friend.” Disguised with the light tone, it took a beat for the exact choice of words and their genuine nature to register, but it was obvious the moment they did. It was all in the softening of his friend’s jaw and, even though Joe didn’t stop watching the crane, in the contented warming of his eyes. 

“Impossible you may be, but... you’re alright, Canaday.”

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out!” 

The ensuing chuckles may or may not have been to blame for the crane’s premature departure, but either way, it was completely worth the feeling of weightlessness a good laugh brought.  
Especially a good laugh following a nice meal, on a good piece of land, between a pair of special friends. 

 

~

 

Not a dozen minutes into their buggy ride home, Candy noticed a little tug on one of the reigns. Felt almost as if one of the horses had missed a step. He was probably going to need to-

“Stop the buggy,” Joe said. Sitting forward and grabbing Candy by the shoulder. Making the prompt stop a tick less smooth than it would have been otherwise.  
“Something’s wrong with Milkshake.”

“I _thought_ I felt someone miss a step. No, no,” Candy said, applying the brake and handing Joe the reigns. Giving him something to do so he’d stay in his seat. “I’ll handle it,” Candy insisted, pulling a hoof pick out of parts storage, under the bench and near the picnic basket. Before hopping down from the buggy and taking it with him around to ‘Milkshake’s’ outer side. Then he bent over and squeezed the back of her ankle; asking for her hoof.  
She lifted it without a fuss, which was a good sign already, and after a thorough clean out with the hoof pick, Candy gave the leg up to the knee a quick rub down and patted the horse on the neck as he left her to come back around to his driver’s side seat. 

“Well?” Asked Joe. Before Candy’d even had time to sit. 

“Oh, no worries. Just a little stone in her hoof.”

“Didn’t bruise her?”

“Nope. No strain neither. No heat in the muscles, _and_ ,” Candy stressed the word to stop Joe asking whatever question was obviously about to roll out his mouth, “I’ll check her again when we get back. Before even if she’s actin’ funny.”

“Well. Alright then. Homeward bound, Conductor,” Joe said, returning the reigns and sitting back in relief. 

“Your wish; my command,” Candy mumbled with a wry smile as he released the brake and gave the reigns a flick. Pointing them back towards the big house and what he hoped would turn out an evening full of nothing but more good time relaxation.  
After all, he and Joe **both** deserved a little time off and if they could spend it together? Well, suffice it to say: The more the merrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game Joe said Hop Sing creamed him at is called weiqi in China, Baduk in Korea, and go in Japan and much of North America.  
> It is in some ways a very simple game and in others extremely complex, and if someone is not a patient teacher, it is very easy to win against a beginner by over a hundred points.  
> Poor Joe. At least Hop Sing spent some time with him!


	7. The Mercantile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day out and about for the two hardest working bronc busters on the Ponderosa!

“It’s strange that my pa’d send us out on errands two days in a row like this, don’t ya think?” Joe asked. Happy despite his confusion to be out and about once again. 

“Must’ve noticed how tuckered you were at dinner and figured that was better’n you climbin’ the walls,” Candy said, keeping his eyes on the road on account of the crags that developed in the dirt between their ranch and town anytime there hadn’t been rain in a while.

Joe nodded as he thought back on the last night and how he had indeed felt less restless. Didn’t even have trouble falling asleep after a game of chess he and Candy’d decided to call a draw. On account of the onlookers heckling every time one of them made a less than stellar move.  
Probably Adam and their pa wanted the board for a game to themselves and Hoss was just along for the fun of running him and Candy off. _That_ he understood, but Joe couldn’t for the life of him peg why it was Hop Sing had joined in with his own commentary; sipping his oolong and informing Joe that that was a terrible waste for a rook. 

But before all that... _interesting_ business with the chess board and the tough crowd, it’d just been him and Candy in a buggy, trundling down some dandy forest path. Enjoying the lulling motion of their transport as the breeze kept them cool.  
After the delicious lunch- _picnic_ lunch, Joe’d been so well fed and utterly comfortable that the gentle rocking had actually put him to sleep. He’d woken right as the house was coming into sight, refreshed and ready to play hooky until the proverbial dinner bell was rung and the work day was officially over and done with.  
So he’d taken a deep breath and straightened from his sideways slouch, his nose full of a familiar scent, and-  
Wait. Could that have been the scent of _some **one**_ familiar?

This day, sitting on a wagon bench on his way into town, Joe swallowed as he realized just what —or rather _who_ — he’d used as a pillow on that particular ride home. And he was sitting right next to him again. 

Glancing over at his driver’s shoulder, Joe had to whip his head completely to the other side or chance the man seeing the red he could feel his cheeks working up. Threatening to betray his embarrassment at the memory.  
A memory all the stranger for the lack of any retaliatory jabs from the friend who’d let him snooze plastered against his side in the embrace of the small pleasure riding buggy they’d taken that day.  
Joe’d have thought that **far** too good an opportunity to pass up. What with him likely having snored or made Candy’s arm lose feeling or... just looked the fool sleeping through a ride like that. 

Joe felt his attention jerked back to the present when the wagon yawed slightly; one wheel going up, over, and back down some mound or rock well enough that his wrist gave a pang and he had to hold in a hiss.  
Maybe he had worse things to worry about than Candy not making fun of him. Like how he was going to help load the supplies with only one reliable hand. Or having to take over driving the team if the designated reigner got tired and wanted him to take them home. Or-

“Yep,” Candy said. Breaking the relatively long silent stretch. “Yer pa’s a reasonable fellow. And when ya think about it, what’s the worst could happen sending us into town?”

“Worst that _could_ happen, or worst that’s _likely_ to?” Joe asked with a wry lilt of his head. 

Candy just sat a moment before opening his mouth again. “I see your point.” Said with a flick of the reigns and a comically serious expression. Which managed to tickle Joe’s funny bone just enough that he snorted in agreement.  
It _was_ a pretty good point after all. 

 

~

 

Soon as the first buildings in town came within view, Joe reached behind his own neck and pulled the strap of his sling over his head. Then shucked his non dominant arm free and clear of it before putting it well out of sight under the bench.

“What _are_ you doing with that arm of yours?” Candy asked. Seeming perturbed by the action. 

“Wouldn’t want everyone in town talkin’ up how they saw ‘that Joe Cartwright’ with his arm in a sling. Every body with a nose stickin’ it where it doesn’t belong; asking what happened and-“

“Ah, yes. Embarrassment _is_ a strong motivator in this day and age,” Candy said with a nod. 

“No- no, I didn’t say anything about being embarrassed,” Joe said. Wishing it hadn’t come out quite so defensive. “I just like a little privacy, is all.”

“Mmhm. ‘Specially when the story behind that sling i’n’t quite so awesome as you might like?” Joe didn’t see a good reason to answer that particular question, so he crossed his arms, glad his wrist didn’t lodge a formal complaint at the configuration, and counted the number of windows in the upper floor of the closest building.  
“I didn’t mean it like that, Joe.”

“Oh, I think you did, Candy.”

“All I meant was: I understand.” At the seemingly sincere tone, Joe forgot what number he was up to and gave his attention back to the driver.  
“If it were me; I’d leave the sling in the cart too. Anyway, I got somethin’ I already know you like doin’ for you to do,” Candy said, navigating them straight down the path between the first buildings of town _while_ reaching underneath the bench to grab something. After only a few seconds spent not looking at the road, the red shirt straightened and handed over a writing board with a checklist attached. Plus a sharpened pencil. 

Well, that was _half_ of Joe’s worries taken care of. 

 

~

 

Someone was standing there waiting when their wagon rolled up to the mercantile’s front porch. Hard to tell whether it was with a ‘glad yer here s’early’ face, or a ‘what took ya so long’ face, but the face was recognizable none the less. 

“Hey, Jody!”

“How’s it goin’, Jody?” The two asked in tandem. Waiting for the wagon to stop its last tremors before climbing out and taking the few steps onto the mercantile’s boardwalk porch. 

“Well, if it isn’t Candy Canaday and Joe Cartwright. I thought y’all’d’ve been late, but I s’pose miracles are bound to happen e’ery now and again,” she greeted. 

“Is that any way to say ‘morning’ to friends?” Candy asked, feigning hurt. 

“These friends? Ain’t no _other_ way,” she said with a sad shake of the head. “So, we all loadin’ today, or is Joe here in charge of that fancy-pants ledger he likes so much?” Jody asked. Joe knowing she’d seen him marking off purchases and deliveries on it in the past. 

“You pegged it. You an’ me got so many things to load, why I fear we’d lose count without somebody keepin’ score,” Candy explained. 

“Keepin’ score, eh?” The lady that came in nearly an entire head shorter than either of her customers said with a glint in her eye. One that got close to worrying the guy holding the writing board. “This a contest, Canaday?”

“Mm, _could_ be,” Candy said with a mock serious face. 

“We bettin’ on this ‘ _could_ be’ contest?” She asked. 

“Uh...” Candy stalled. 

“Aw, never mind then,” Jody said, eyes cast heavenward. “Not worth the effort if I ain’t gonna win nothin’ off it. Let’s you and me start loadin’,” she said, giving Candy an encouraging pat on the upper arm. 

“Go team! I’ll just be, uh, checking the list. Checking it _twice_ ,” Joe informed as the two who weren’t currently supposed to be _not_ working took off for the inside of the shop. 

 

~

 

After several trips back and forth and back and forth, Joe had the majority of the lines checked off and Candy’d decided he’d done a good job himself keeping up with the professional loader and was ready for a quick breather out by the wagon.  
Least, that’s what he’d said before he’d grabbed his canteen from the seating area and taken a good few drafts. But Joe had a feeling he’d stopped moving sacks to make sure the list checker didn’t get too bored and decide those poorly packed goods needed a little rearranging.  
Which Joe admitted to himself, _had_ been pretty tempting. What with some of those piles being lopsided and lumpy and looking like they’d fall right out the back as soon as they hit the road again. 

“Don’t like the packin’ job we done?” Joe heard from right by his elbow. 

“Huh? Oh, oh, no. It’s fine- just _fine_. Couldn’t’a done better myself.” He complimented. 

“Uh-huh. Well _I_ think we should have thought it through a little before we started just throwing things all over the place, all haphazard like,” Candy said, swinging his canteen by the strap so it landed on the wagon footboard without making a sound. 

“Well, ya put it _that_ way: I couldn’t agree more,” Joe said with an emphatic nod. 

“...Knew ya didn’t like it.”

“But- but you just said _you_ didn’t!” Joe sputtered. 

“Mm-hm. And you agreed,” Candy said. Not looking offended. 

Joe found himself cut off from any possible rebuttal he might have been tempted to make by the scraping of _almost_ steady steps coming up the boardwalk towards the mercantile. Looking over Candy’s shoulder, he saw the man they belonged to didn’t look all that happy to see them. 

“Canaday, I got a bone to pick with you! You no good, rotten-“

“Festus! You’re sober!” Candy exclaimed, somehow knowing the name to match the voice even before turning to face the approacher. Who didn’t stop until he’d stalked close enough that even Joe could smell the stale alcohol wafting off of him. “What a pleasant change from last we met!”

“You stole that money from me, Canaday! Takin’ advantage of a man when he was clearly inebriated!” The man in question near shouted, pointing a finger straight at the accused’s face. 

“Now, hold on a second there, friend,” Candy said with a pair of placating hands up between them. “Would it be takin’ advantage of your drunkenness if you’d won all _my_ money on that poker game?”

“Huh?” The guy asked. A bewildered look sticking to his face. 

“No? So it’s ‘taking advantage’ if you lose, but fair play if you win? I don’t see the logic in that,” Candy said. One arm now cocked akimbo. 

The confusion melted away pretty quickly after that. “Yer twistin’ my words up somethin’ fierce there, ‘friend’.” Joe felt himself tense at the aggressive tone. Primed in case this ‘Festus’ decided fists better diplomatic tools than twisted up words. 

“Hm. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it’s been nice chattin’, but me and Joe here have s’more packing to get over ‘n’ done with. So if you don’t mind?” Candy asked, complete with a quick shooing motion. 

The man in the rumpled clothes squinted right at Candy, spat a spattering of tobacco juice on the boardwalk, and turned to walk off. Sparing the barest hint of a glance for the green jacketed frame by Candy’s side before being on his way.  
Appearing deeply unimpressed as he did. 

“You played him at poker?” Joe asked, watching the departing figure until it was no longer a potential threat. 

“Won too.”

“Doesn’t seem like good company for a good time game,” Joe observed, giving Candy his full attention once more.

“Maybe so, but he bothered the waitstaff less when occupied, so I humored him for a few hands.”

“A-and walked away with all his money?”

“I didn’t _know_ at the time that it was **all** his money, but I _did_ win,” Candy clarified with a subdued grin. 

“Oh, a gentleman like yourself? Would never take advantage of someone so besotted they couldn’t find their hat on the top of their own head,” said Joe, a touch of snark in the words. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t sit around long enough for his ramblings to start makin’ sense. Turns out, I had a snake to shoot,” Candy said, a look of seriousness passing over his face.

“That was last time? _That_ was why you were stayin’ in town late? You wanted to play poker? With **_that_** guy?” Joe asked. Incredulous.

“I _did_ want to get in a game or two, but our dear Festus reminded me that I had **far** better comp’ny waiting out on the trail.” 

“Oh. Well, then, maybe next time I see our new friend I ought to thank him for being so unpleasant,” Joe suggested with a smirk. 

“I’m not so sure he’d appreciate the gesture,” Candy advised. 

“No? In that case, I might have to thank you in his stead.”

“For being unpleasant?” Candy asked. 

“For finding _Festus_ unpleasant,” Joe clarified. 

“Oh, now _that_ weren’t no trouble at all, Joe. Save the thanks for when I do somethin’ special,” Candy insisted. 

“Well, if you insist. But, uh, we could have quite a wait on our hands,” Joe said with a smirk. Which prompted a friendly little stare off. During which, Joe began flexing the stiffening muscles of the hand holding the writing board with the Ponderosa purchase order stuck to it. Feeling glad his writing hand wasn’t the one he’d managed to bang up.  
Then, noticing Candy notice his little stretch, Joe cleared his throat and turned back to the wagon. “Just have a few more items to check off the list and we’re done.”

“I think Jody’s checking the back for some of those last bags, so you can take the last of the checkin’ easy.” Joe wasn’t sure what to think of the smooth delivery. Sounded almost as if Candy was _trying_ to be nonchalant, as opposed to just plain being that way natural like. 

“Uh-huh,” Joe said, sandwiching the board against his side under one arm. Taking the supposedly off handed suggestion. Deciding he didn’t need to draw attention to it, nor the fact that his wrist was starting to bug him worse, any more than there already was.  
“Anything else you wanna do while we’re in town?” He asked. Only non work related question that came to mind as he studied the smartly painted facing of the hotel across the street. 

“Oh, maybe grab a beer. Or a bite, if you’re of a mind.”

“I might be amenable,” Joe informed, turning back to his friend. 

Candy looked thoughtful for a moment before offering, “There’s a breakfast and lunch cafe I seen down a side street nearby. Never been inside myself, but it looks cozy and the folks walk out look a little rounder’n when they walked in.”

Joe scoffed at the description. “How would you know that unless you watched the door all day?”

“By watchin’ all mornin’,” came the smug reply. 

“Oh, a wise guy? Jody,” Joe began as the store’s loader came out to meet them with a small grain bag over one shoulder, “did you know that my friend here is a wise guy?”

“You just catchin’ on now, Joe? ‘Cause this card’s been nothin’ but wise with me e’er since he first walked up these here steps.” Came the matter of fact response Joe hadn’t been expecting.  
He gave Candy a squint. Demanding an explanation. 

“Now, hold on there, Jody. Maybe that’s not the kind of thing we like to say quite so off the cuff like that?” Candy asked, sounding just a little frazzled. 

Jody continued straight past Joe and the guy Joe was busy scrutinizing and plopped the grain bag in the wagon on top of everything else. A finality in the move that drew Joe’s attention.  
“I mean it just the way I said it. Wisest customer we have that don’t got the smarts to back it up,” she said. Ending with a smirk that proved she was indeed in good humor and indeed just playing along. 

“Yeah, he’s somethin’ else alright- but, uh, is this the last bag, Jody?” Joe asked, pulling his board back out to inspect the list. “I have _several_ more bags scheduled for this run.”

“Yeah, this clears us out alright. Lemme get my pa for ya and he’ll hold yer hands and explain things while I go get s’more _work_ done,” Jody said with a playful grin trying to break through the serious look on her face. 

Joe and Candy glanced at each other as they watched one of the few ladies they’d ever met who consistently wore pants mosey on back into the general store.  
Within the minute, they had one slightly red nosed gentleman wearing an apron walking out to greet them. 

“Sorry boys, but the seed and grain shipment was delayed. Guess you’ll just have to head home with a little extra space in yer cart today,” the owner of the general store informed them as he came to a stop an arms length away. 

“Ooh, that’s a shame- A right shame, isn’t it, Joe?” Candy said, tone tempered toward a restrained serious. 

“Hm? Oh-oh, yes,” Joe said with a disappointed clicking of his tongue. Catching on to Candy’s fun. “It’s a dern shame alright. I just hope my pa doesn’t send us right back into town to try and find it somewheres else.” Joe lamented, as he hid an amused smile behind his pencil wielding hand and sneaked a glance at the shop owner they’d been loyal about buying top quality supplies from for nearly half of Joe’s entire life.  
Guy was starting to sweat, and it wasn’t on account of any sun exposure, considering it was a mild day and the three of them were currently standing in the shade of his store’s sturdy awning. 

“Oh, yes. That pa of yours has _quite_ the temper. Doesn’t like being kept waiting. Not even for grain seed,” Candy exaggerated. Swallowing a smile of his own. 

“I expect the grain shipment only a few days hence. Should be that the army at the fort wanted to inspect it for health before lettin’ it through for plant within the territory. Wouldn’t want bad seed infecting the good,” the guy with a sudden case of the worries offered. Probably _not_ exaggerating. Just trying to make sure Ben would know the reason for the delay.  
Thoughtful. 

Feeling just a tad like a horrid child, Joe glanced at Candy same moment he glanced at him, and the two of them couldn’t hold in the laughter any longer.  
Joe kept an eye on his pa’s _long_ time business acquaintance’s face and laughed even harder when the guy mopped his brow and joined in with a hearty belly jiggler. 

“Oh, Jody was right about you two!” The shopkeep said, wiping some laughter moisture from one eye. “You’re a couple’a cutups!”

“I think we need to listen to that Jody; she might be the only one out of us that’s got any sense!” Candy snickered. 

“Now don’t let her hear you sayin’ that: Poor thing’ll take over _even_ more of the day to day if she thinks I’m becomin’ like the clientele.”

“Uh-huh. And how exactly _is_ this ‘clientele’ of yours?” Joe asked in a needling tone. 

“Well,” said the guy in the apron, rocking back on his heels, “to put it lightly: **Not** suited to work in a mercantile.”

At that, they heard a cackle from inside the shop and outright bust out laughing when they recognized the timber as being none other than Jody.  
Joe guessed she could hear their cutting up from inside and decided she could work and laugh at them at the same time. Good for her. 

“Oh, well I s’pose this is it for today then?” Candy asked as the ruckus died down. 

“Yep. Like I said, should be in in a few days and you’re welcome to come by in a week if you want to be sure it’s here,” the mercantile owner said. Then gave his head a scratch and added, “Unless y’all need the grain seed soon as possible?”

Joe got a ‘you’re the one with the list’ glance from Candy, so he spoke up for the Ponderosa’s supply needs himself.  
“Next week will be fine. Thanks a bunch, Amos. Jody, we’ll see ya next week!” To which he got a handshake made rather awkward by the fact that he’d forgotten his right arm was injured, and a disembodied ‘yeah, see ya’ from inside.  
He tried to hide the fact that _now_ he remembered about that blasted sprain and pretended he was scratching his chest as he climbed up to his side of the wagon bench. Really just elevating his pained wrist in hopes that that would make it more comfortable until they were outside city limits. Where he wouldn’t feel self-conscious putting the sling back in place. 

Candy took a moment to make sure the rig was a-okay, climbed up next to him to take his seat, and released the break. Sitting the team as he looked over at Joe with a look of contrition.  
“We can’t leave a wagon full of supplies outside while we eat at that breakfast cafe, can we?”

Joe gave his own bottom lip a chew before sighing. “Guess we’ll just have to do it next week instead.”

“Yeah, that’ll be _fine_! We’ll call it a date,” Candy said, giving the reigns a flick. Leaving Joe grateful the driver was too busy to notice his slight double take at the choice of word for the preplanned meal.  
It’d taken him by surprise. Even **knowing** the meaning of the word when used so casually. 

“Yep. It’s a date alright,” Joe mumbled. Wondering whether Candy’d be able to hear it over the sound of the dirt crunching under their wagon wheels. 

 

~

 

Turning the team and cart took a while, on account of the streets starting to get a little busier for the day, but before long they were on their way back out of town and headed home. 

Stomachs hunkering down for a bit of a wait until official lunch back on the Ponderosa. Hopeful that it would at least be worth it for the quality of the chow offered by the legendary skills of the main house’s chef. 

Joe took the opportunity to give the buildings a friendly looking over on his way away, knowing he wouldn’t have the opportunity for a fun time visit for at least another week. Before they reached the outskirts though, something caught his eye.  
“Look,” Joe said, pointing toward a solitary figure who seemed to have no compunction outright staring from his lean against a shop door jamb as the supply cart rolled by. “Unless I have it wrong, our dear Festus is festering.”

“Joseph, I think you’re old enough now to know that cards’ll do that to a person. Leave ‘em sour and bristlin’ and quite a bit less attractive than they might’a otherwise ended up.” The guy driving the cart explained. Expression a mock philosophic. 

“Ah. So _that’s_ what made you the way you are. I was wonderin’ ‘bout that,” Joe said. Easily dodging the playful, indignant swipe aimed his way.

Not sparing a glance back toward town, the two pestered, cajoled, and chided each other the entire trip back. Overall enjoying the miles of trail dust and sun between them and a well earned lunch in the comfort of the Cartwright family dining room. 

After lunch found Joe settling down to finish off that book he’d started a few days previous, and Candy off to find out just how many chores he either had or didn’t have for the rest of the day. Coming back not two hours later saying he’d been let off easy for not spending the entire day in town on the supply trip.  
So the two of them had some fun taking turns reading aloud in turn every other line out of a very serious manual concerning The Care And Keeping Of Hardwood Furniture. 

After about a chapter, they couldn’t help noticing places on the living room furniture that would benefit from a little oiling. Especially that one spot on the coffee table Joe couldn’t for the life of him remember to keep his feet off. 

Even with the suspicious smell of linseed oil lingering when dinner time came around, both of them were pretty sure not a one around the table was the wiser.  
And so Candy and Joe had fun snickering about the utter obliviousness all through checkers and chess and even an impromptu recitation of the great speech from Shakespeare’s Henry The Fifth. Which ended to raucous cheers and calls of ‘Go, Saint Crispin!’, and, ‘Saint who?’.  
Soon followed by a discussion concerning the exact battle covered in that particular passage, and everyone heading off to bed without inquiring as to why it was the two youngests had barely gone an entire minute without putting a hand over their own mouths. Nor why the living room smelled of freshly oiled wood. 

Hm. Come to think of it, Joe pondered as he removed his sling, cloistered as he was in his room for the night, the smell had probably been a bigger hint than he or Candy’d been thinking.  
He ended up laying down for the night with the sinking feeling that he’d spent his afternoon off time doing chores as opposed to committing an elaborate prank. 

Joe sighed as he realized that either his family had known about the furniture upkeep the moment they’d each walked in, or they’d **never** know. And that, no matter what, nobody was gonna think of it as them having been fooled. 

“Eh. Win some, lose some,” Joe mumbled to his darkened room. Pleased at least that he’d absolutely wasted his time _with_ his absolute best friend.  
Sure as heck beat wasting his time absolutely alone. 

With that thought and another sigh, Joe propped his tender arm on an extra pillow and let himself slip gently into that dark night. Looking forward to whatever the new day had in store. Hoping it was at least something pleasant.


	8. The Team

Candy woke with a smile on his face. Or, it felt like he did, anyway.  
He at least woke with good memories in his head. Memories of the previous two days full of picnics and he and Joe’s trip into town. It was too bad they hadn’t had time nor opportunity to try out the breakfast cafe, but, like Joe’d said; there was always next time. So Candy had something specific to look forward to on their next trip as well. 

To think that Candy’d been put up to both days of ‘assigned work’ by none other than Joe’s two older brothers. Adam because his baby brother was going stir crazy, and Hoss because- 

“Ha!” Candy laughed just remembering Hoss’s face the last morning. The big guy’d been waiting outside the bunk house, hat in his hands, wanting to talk to him before breakfast. 

 

~

 

“Well, morning’, Hoss! What’s the occasion?” Candy asked. Just a trifle confused over the early visit. 

“Oh, just wonderin’ whether you and Joe’d like to take the wagon into town today? ‘Stead of me?”

“Uh?” Asked Candy. Wondering whether this wasn’t some sort of prank.

“To pick up some supplies?” Hoss said, wringing the brim of his hat in his hands. 

“Uh, I got chores and-“

“Now, I know how you and Joe like spendin’ time together, and how he’s been drivin’ himself half crazy; doin’ dern near nothin’ but readin’ these past few days,” Hoss cut in. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other a little quicker than seemed natural. “And, uh, I was thinkin’ that the two of you might want an excuse for a nice drive out to town.”

Candy gave the impressive frame before him an assessing eye before speaking up. “And what, pray tell, would we be doing on this theoretic trip into town?”

“Uh,” said Hoss, once again switching which foot was the one on load bearing duty. “Well, ya see, there’s a few things at the mercantile ready for someone to come and collect ‘em and, well, it’s technic’lly _my_ turn for it, but-“

“Oh, I see: You were hoping me and your injured baby brother might do your chores _for_ you this fine day?” Candy asked, one eyebrow raised.

Hoss licked his lips and gave the surrounding area a quick glance, as if making sure no one else had heard that last bit.  
“‘Course not. Not like that anyhow,” he added, just a tad defensive like. “It’s just... them at the mercantile take one look at me an’ point me where the goods’re stored and never raise a finger with loadin’. Ain’t fair,” Hoss said, sounding closer to hurt than upset. “Ain’t never seen ‘em make anybody else load a wagon by their lonesome. Not Adam, not Pa, not- not a _soul_.”

“Well that’s just terrible,” Candy comforted. “Folks must think because you’re big as two smaller fellas, they can expect you to do just as much work as two to boot.”

“Like I said: Ain’t fair.”

“Absolutely not,” Candy agreed with a sad shake of the head. Giving it time to soak before moving on. “So, you figure Joe ‘n’ me’ll have no problems in town and that you can do my regular chores for me without us being found out?” 

“I already asked Hop Sing to set a place fer you at breakfast. After that, we just swap places. I won’t tell a soul and if you don’t neither, ain’t nobody’ll be the wiser,” Hoss finished. Quite reasonably. 

“Alright then. You got yourself a deal,” Candy said, holding out his hand to seal it and make it official. The kind of official anyone involved would deny in front of the entire world to the bitter, bitter end. Or until somebody slicker weaseled it out of them without them noticing. Whichever came first. 

“Aw, I _guarantee_ it’ll be perfect this way. You just wait’n see,” Hoss’d said, while giving Candy what must no doubt have been one of his softer handshakes. One that still left the smaller cowpoke’s mitt devoid of all sensation for a worrying several seconds. 

 

~

 

And that was how Candy’d found himself on a supply run into town with Joe and a supply wagon and dependable pulling team which, on that particular run, had happened to be the same team they’d taken out with the buggy the day before.  
At Joe’s insistence that they were good for it.  
And then in town he’d indeed gotten the foretold help loading from both the staff and a checklist wielding, slingless Joe. 

Hoss had been right after all. They’d had just as much fun on their supply run as they might have shirking Candy’s chores on the ranch. And, when he’d next seen Hoss, the middle brother had tipped his ten gallon hat at him with a happy twinkle in his eye. Puzzling the man in red something fierce.  
After all, Candy’d rarely seen a soul so happy not to take a trip into town. Most around the ranch, in fact, were counting down the days till their next visit. Though, Candy conceded, those particular visits generally weren’t work related. 

Grinning to himself, Candy finished getting ready for the new day, trudged out the bunk house to grab breakfast, and found himself being called off regular duty by one of the other hands. Saying that he was to report to the main barn on the double and that the request had been made by none other than Adam Cartwright himself. 

Once again starting his day puzzled, Candy made his way where he’d been informed he’d been asked to, and was pleased to see Joe holding the halter to one half of that same off cream colored pulling team while his eldest brother finished the hitching job. 

“Hey, Candy! Wanna put in hard time on some back busting labor?” Joe called, soon as he noticed his friend’s approach. 

“You comin’ too?” Candy called across the yard. Feet moving a hair faster. 

“Sure thing!”

“Then I don’t really have a choice, now do I?” Candy said, holding in a chuckle as he reached the business by the side of the barn. 

“Come again?” Asked the guy with the horse now nibbling at his green jacket collar.

“Who else is gonna keep you outta trouble?” Candy grinned out. 

“That _precisely_ is why I asked Candy here to join us. He may well be the only soul on the entire ranch who can manage that lofty feat,” Adam explained, while cinching he last hitch buckle in place. 

“I can keep _myself_ out of trouble just fine, thank you very much,” Joe said as he stepped away from the well secured team. Only marginally annoyed. 

“So you’d rather I have someone else accompany us?” Adam asked, brow raised.

The look that passed over Joe’s face at the question had both Candy and Adam laughing in an instant. 

“You want me along that bad, huh?” Candy squeezed out between chortles. 

“Well,” Joe started, probably scrambling to find a believable answer. “Anyone else’d be a bore!”

“Alright, crew,” Adam said, cutting off the rebuttal Candy’d been halfway through thinking up. “ _In_ the wagon. Let’s get this over with so we can get back to **important** , actually running the ranch type business.”

Only once all three of them were squished onto the bench and Adam had released the brake did Candy pipe up with a most pertinent question.  
“So, what kind of back breaking work I sign myself up for?”

Joe snickered before offering up the requested information. “Remember that big ol’ bough we found in the road a ways out?” Candy nodded. “We’re clearing that out.”

“Well, _Candy_ and I will be clearing it out,” Adam corrected. 

To which Joe rolled his eyes with a less than pleased, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Do you now?” Adam wheedled. 

“Yes and maybe you want to pay more attention to the _road_ -

“I’ll bet we need a project coordinator. Don’t we, Adam?” Candy butted in. 

“You know, Candy; I believe you’ve found _just_ the job for our dear Joseph,” intoned the oldest of their little group. 

The other two on the front seat glanced at each other and nodded.  
Adam _could_ be reasonable. Given half a chance. 

 

~

 

“You’re almost there!” Came the encouraging almost shout from a safe distance off. Over by the resting horses.

“Yes, Joe, we can see that,” Adam informed. Tone just as level as the last time he’d said as much.

“Has he always been such a peach?” Candy asked, giving his axe a momentary rest. 

“You should have seen him when he was younger,” Adam mumbled, wiping the back of one hand across his brow. Leaving behind a smear of dirt in the place of sweat.  
Quite becoming. 

Candy couldn’t decide whether his chortle was more a reaction to Adam’s unexpected filth or the other axe wielder’s jab at his own brother, but either way, it was quite satisfying.  
He _did_ know though, that Joe deserved to see Adam up close, in all his dirty glory, so the next time the guy spending most of his time petting the pretty horses and picking up the occasional stray twigs offered-

“Water?” 

Candy was definitely saying, “Yes _please_ and thank you!”

The two, who’d been busy for at least the past twenty minutes cutting up the ginormous Ponderosa bough, set down their recently sharpened axes and nodded thanks when their acting water bearer brought over two canteens.  
Candy making sure to watch Joe’s face as the guy in green handed the second canteen to his brother, eager to catch the reaction when it happened. 

“Uh, might wanna save some of that water for your face, Adam,” Joe suggested, pointing in the general direction of his brother’s head as soon as Adam’d taken a good draft. 

“What?” Adam asked recapping his canteen and returning it to free up his hands. The dirtiest of which he moved to indicate his face in a questioning manner. 

“Yeah, you’ve got a little something right- No, a little higher,” Joe directed when Adam wiped at his own chin. Which was suddenly every speck as dirty as his forehead.  
“Nope. Higher,” Joe said, quite helpfully, when his relation only moved his hand high enough to swipe the back of it across his once clean nose.  
“Almost there,” He encouraged when the guy smearing bark dust all over his sweated face moved to rub at both cheeks in turn. 

“I get it that time?” Came Adam’s weary query as he managed to unwittingly make his forehead _even_ dirtier. 

“Oh, you got it alright,” Candy said with a nod and a barely restrained smile. Then, when the other half of the bough removal brigade simply nodded in acceptance, he worked hard to pass off a barked laugh for a cough.  
Wow, Joe was good at this. His face hadn’t crumpled nor even _buckled_ at the hilarious sight of the most serious of the Cartwright’s unknowingly making a mess of his own face.  
Not wanting to blow the entire operation, Candy turned to face Joe and handed back his own canteen.  
“Thanks, Joe.”

“You already said thanks. Besides,” Joe said, slinging both canteens around one shoulder, “it’s _actually_ the least I can do.”

“Now, Joe, you _are_ aware that we basically sneaked you out of the house today, right?” Adam asked, hands resting on his hips as he took the opportunity for a breather. 

“Yep. Yer pa didn’t want you comin’ out for a third day in a row. ‘Specially not on a clean up project like this’n, wrought with temptation as it is.” Judging by the lack of any sort of confused reaction on Adam’s part, the man in black must already have known about yesterday’s chore switcheroo. Probably Hoss had told him even before he’d asked Candy himself about it.  
Either way, the less Ben knew about all these goings on the better for Joe’s day to day enjoyment of life. So it was good he, Adam, and Hoss could work together at it well as they were. 

“Oh, you mean the temptation to be _helpful_ for a change?” Joe asked, shoulders dropping as his face did. 

“Joe, think about it,” Adam implored, stepping over the nearly naked bough to stand closer to his clean up crew. “How often do you have time to spend with Milkshake and Butterscotch? You _know_ they miss you when you’re not along for the ride. With your secret pocket full of sugar cubes,” he added, with what Candy suspected to be the Adam equivalent of a knowing grin. 

“Wait, what’s this about spending time with the team?” Candy asked, motioning to the handsome, aptly named pair tied near the wagon. Realizing that he had no idea what Adam was talking about. 

“Oh, Joe never mentioned?” Candy shook his head ‘no’. “Shame,” Adam commented, giving his brother a momentary questioning look.  
“Well, long story short, those two were born twins and their mother was called back on draft duty soon as they could be considered weening age. On account of the ranch being short on draft horses that season,” Adam explained. “Our dear Joseph took it upon himself to raise the orphaned pair himself. Kept them in a pen with Cochise anytime he wasn’t riding her. Hand fed the two of them. Gentled and trained them and forbade them ever being used for logging or other hard draft. Professionally anyway.”

Candy studied the side of Joe’s head, wondering at the pinkening cheek and thinking to himself that something from the other day made all the more sense now.  
“So _that’s_ why you were so worried about her hoof; way back from the lake,” he said. Feeling like he’d just solved a mystery he hadn’t even known existed. 

“He’s protective of those two alright. But I have a feeling that’s part of the reason they’re so well behaved on the trail: They know someone in the wagon cares about them,” Adam mused. 

“Huh,” Candy said, taking a gander at the unassuming, though well appointed, horses tossing their heads a ways off. 

“How long’s it been, Joe?” Adam asked, angling some to better face his brother. “Seven years? Nine?”

“They’ll be ten come summer,” Joe said. Sounding as if he was giving out someone else’s personal information. Without permission. 

Then, without another word, the guy who once again wasn’t currently wearing his sling took off to return the canteens to the wagon and then started clearing twigs and small branches off the trail and into the wagon bed. In earnest. 

Candy looked to Adam who just shrugged and picked up his axe, ready to get back at the promised back breaking work. _Still_ completely unaware that his face was coated in bark shavings and black tree dust.  
It wasn’t quite as hard that time to not laugh though, as Candy picked up his own axe and resettled his hands into the familiar grip.  
Before he got back to it though, he glanced over at Joe tossing some small hunks of wood into the back of the wagon and almost smiled at the thought of the green jacketed guy having raised the well behaved horses nickering for his attention. 

 

~

 

Joe perked back up not long later when Adam asked him to bring Butterscotch and a good rope over.  
“We have most of the big branches shorn off; about time we started moving and loading them,” he explained to anyone who cared to listen. 

“About time?! How long does it take to clear _one_ bough anyway?” Joe asked with a devilish grin as he handed the rope with the hook on one end to his brother. 

“Just as long as it takes. And besides, shouldn’t you be _enjoying_ your time out of the house?” Adam asked, half his attention on securing the line around the hefty, naked branch.  
Candy, watching from where he was still busy stripping twigs and sticks off a branch on his side of the prickly monstrosity, snorted to himself when the younger Cartwright stuck his tongue out at the lowered head.  
“Alright,” Adam began, probably deciding the question had been rhetorical anyway, “take it away!”

“Hya!” Joe said, pretending he was directing a large team to drag an enormous felled tree, but in his brother’s direction as opposed to the horse at his shoulder’s.  
No, when he wanted... _Butterscotch_ to walk forward, he clicked his tongue and took him by the lead rope. No muss, no fuss. Then, when they got around to the back of the wagon, Joe and Adam lifted and shoved until the wooden pole was as far into the bed as it would go. Joe impressing Candy in the way he managed to use only the one arm for the whole job. Keeping the less than healed one off to one side. For balance perhaps. 

On second thought, Joe could have been remembering not to use his off hand on account of it paining him. Candy felt his brow furrow at the possibility, but reminded himself that Adam **knew** his ‘baby brother’ and wouldn’t hesitate to bench him if he thought it prudent. 

Reassured, Candy went back to it with his axe and by the time the others brought the horse back over, his branch was severed and ready for dragging as well. 

 

~

 

Some point through the grueling road clearing job, Joe surprised the others with a greatly appreciated lunch snack, courtesy Hop Sing.  
Then, before they knew it, it was job done, road passable, firewood for the rest of the... foreseeable future, and time to get their filthy selves back home. 

So the work team rehitched the horses, clambered onto the driving bench, and took the party home, where they foisted the job of storing the wood onto some unfortunate couple of hands who _hadn’t_ just spent the entire morning cutting it up. 

Groom seeing to the horses, Candy broke off for the bunkhouse and a quick freshen up while Adam and Joe moseyed back up to the main house for the same. 

Hiding a snicker as they all left the main drive, Candy wondered what sort of reaction Adam seeing himself in a mirror might produce from the stoic guy. Face still **filthy** as it was.  
Wishing he could be there to hear —or maybe even _see_ — it for himself, he shook his head and went to have that freshen up he’d been looking forward to. 

 

~

 

Sufficiently no longer a complete mess, Candy secreted his way _away_ from any further chores it was possible he was supposed to attend to before it got late, and made instead for the most likely place he might find one Joseph Cartwright. 

Bingo, he thought as he poked his head around the open door of the main barn and the trademark green jacket revealed itself in the recesses of the comfy gloom.  
“‘Lo in there! Anybody home?” He called.

“Just us hay ticks,” came the less than exuberant reply.  
Hm. Sounded almost as if the guy was feeling down. Candy couldn’t think of much that could have happened between now and the last time he’d seen Joe that could cause a dip in mood.  
Unless Adam had **really** not appreciated the joke where he was encouraged to smudge dirt all over his own face. Unawares like. But it was difficult to imagine their level headed task manager being harsh with his younger brother over a bit of harmless fun. 

“Well, ‘just us hay ticks’ mind a little comp’ny?” Candy asked, stepping on through the barn opening. 

“Is the comp’ny friendly?” Joe asked without looking over. To which, Candy almost paused. 

“Always, Joe. What kinda question-“

“Just,” The guy, who Candy could now see was occupying his dominant hand petting a big, cream colored horse who’s head was sticking over its stall door into the aisle, started. Word just a little stiff. “Just, some folks... think different when they hear how ‘mollycoddled’ these two are. Changes their opinion on... things,” Joe said, giving Milkshake a rub down one side of her neck. 

Candy came to a stop in front the stall right across the isle and squared his shoulders. “All that changes, is now I gotta spend some time gettin’ to know ‘em better,” he informed with a toothy grin. 

“Really?”

“‘Course. Especially after seein’ how proud Adam was of ‘em. And you for raisin’ the rascals,” Candy assured. 

“Adam? Proud of me wasting the talents of two perfectly good draft horses on account of-of softheartedness?”

“Did you see his face when he told the story?”

“ _Should_ I have?” Joe asked

“Absolutely.” When Joe looked him in the face, at long last, Candy cracked a grin and explained. “It was covered in dirt.” _That_ got a snort out of both the rancher across from him, who was being good and wearing his sling again, _and_ whatever’d just bumped Candy in the back of one shoulder.  
A quick glance behind himself revealed that he’d been standing right in front of the deeper cream of the team’s stall.  
“Hey, Butterscotch likes me!” Candy said, twisting around to see the horse better. 

“Probably thinks you’re here to give him a treat. Horse has a sweet tooth,” Joe informed. 

“I probably would too with a name like that,” Candy insisted. Getting a scoff for his troubles. 

“Isn’t your name already just as bad? _Candy_?”

“Ha! You got a point there, compadre,” Candy said. Reaching a hand out to let the horse with the big brown eyes sniff at his leisure. 

“Guess they are pretty funny names for a couple’a draft type horses though, huh?”

“Eh, maybe, but it don’t make them any less good at the job,” Candy said. Feeling almost like the lick across the palm he got from the horse in front of him was some form of thanks for the compliment.  
“Come to think of it: we’ve hitched ‘em to a buggy, a wagon; they pulled logs for us. How many different ways did you train these brutes?” Candy asked, patting Butterscotch on the nose and getting a second, fonder lick for his troubles. 

“They are _not_ brutes, and they’re good at just about everything you could ask a horse to be good at,” Joe said, sounding just a tad defensive. “E-except working herd. Never trained ‘em ‘round cattle. Not extensively,” he added. 

“Joe, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” Candy said, giving the big white and caramel horse a scratch behind the ears. “I’m just impressed is all.” He looked over in time to see Joe slip Milkshake a sugar cube and had to hold in a chuckle at the sight.  
Adam must’ve been right. He’d have to ask Joe about the secret sugar pocket sometime. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s just... I’ve gotten a lot of lip over the years over how I treat these fellas-“

“And Cochise.”

“-and sometimes it just rubs me wrong. I mean, what’s wrong with treatin’ horses like friends? Or-or-or-“

“Or like family?” Candy asked. Hoping the words came across as devoid of judgment as he meant them. 

Joe stood there, across the small isle from him, petting his cream colored horse and making eye contact only with the ground for a handful of seconds, before taking in a lungful of good ol’ barn air and saying, “Yeah. What’s so wrong with that?”

Candy couldn’t help the momentary frown as he removed his hand from Butterscotch’s forelock and stepped right on up to the horse’s twin in the stall facing his.  
When Joe looked up and met his eyes, Candy made a show of putting a gentle hand on Milkshake’s muzzle and shook his head before speaking. “Not a darn thing.”

Somehow, the surprise on Joe’s face at that was... soft, and pleased, and it morphed into a fondness that soon had him showing teeth in a hearty smile.  
“I knew you were one of the good ones.”

“Well, if you knew it, what had ya so worried?”

“Hm. Sometimes, even the good ones don’t get it,” Joe said, giving _both_ of his prized creamies one more pat before taking off for the exit and the yard outside. 

“Hey, hold up, Joe; wait for me,” Candy called, taking a second to copy Joe’s parting pats, then jogging to catch up.  
“Do, uh, do Butterscotch and Milkshake - Are they good for hacking? Could we take them for a ride sometime?”

“Well,” Joe started with a pensive grin, “they’re saddle trained, but they won’t go anywhere without the other. Too used to working side by side.”

“T’ain’t no problem at all,” Candy said, falling in step beside his friend. “We’ll just have to ride the way we’re walkin’!”

Joe glanced beside himself and shook his head, eyes cast upward. “You might be ridiculous, but every now and then, you manage to surprise even me.”

“My idea’s _that_ good?” Candy asked with eyebrows raised. 

“ _Better_ : It’s that **bad**!” The guy in the cream hat exclaimed. Clearing his throat before starting again. “I’m just joshin’ ya. But, it _has_ been a while since I took them out like that. And when I have, it’s always me on one of ‘em lead roping the other,” Joe explained as they hit the halfway point between the barn and the ranch house. 

“And ya switch off?”

“If’n the rascals promise to hold still!”

“Ha! Oh, I’d love to see that!” Candy guffawed, slapping a hand across one knee. 

“Oh, I bet you would. I could teach you a thing or two about riding you’d never _dreamed_ of,” Joe said as they hit the front porch. 

Candy walked ahead and opened the front door with a little bow. Playing at being a fancy eastern butler.  
“Like how to lose your seat whenever a snake shows its ugly-“ As Candy realized just what it was he was saying his mouth clicked shut and he felt his spine straighten so quick there was a near audible snap. 

Joe walked on through the door and hung his hat, moving like he was maybe a touch perturbed but not quite approaching distressed. Yet.  
He turned back to his butler and nodded. Looking like he meant to say that he understood his friend’s contrition. 

Candy had to be sure though. So he stepped forward and let the door close on its own. “I’ll _always_ be glad you’re okay, Joe.”

“I know,” the guy with the tender arm said. Looking Candy dead in the eye far longer than felt normal. Almost like he was trying to find something in there.  
When he finally looked away, it was with a muted smile. Then his eyes lit upon the chess set, still sitting out on the coffee table where they’d last seen it the night before.  
“Wanna pick up where we left off?” He asked, walking to and around the sofa as if he’d already heard a ‘yes’. 

“Maybe we start from the beginning? I can’t remember where all the pieces were,” Candy said as he came to sit across from his opponent. 

“You know what I mean, Canaday. Now, white or black?” Joe insisted. 

“You choose,” Candy insisted right on back. 

“Fine. But no cryin’ when I beat ya.”

“Oh, this won’t be like checkers with Hoss. Come dinner time, _you’ll_ be owin’ **me** a bag of peppermints!”

“Is that a bet?” Joe asked, a challenge in the set of his jaw. 

“Is there any other way to enjoy a game of chess?” Candy asked. 

“Good point,” Joe said. Then, he turned the board around and pushed a pawn out onto the proverbial field of war. Not afraid to meet Candy head on. 

“Hm. Hope we’re still friends after this is through,” Candy commented, pushing forward a pawn of his own. 

“Pretty sure it’d take more’n some old board game to break us up.”

“Yeah,” Candy agreed with a smile, “a _lot_ more.”

 

~

 

It was quite a while later, and only to the incessant warnings that dinner was about to go cold, that the two agreed once again to call it a draw. 

“After dinner, wanna go for two out of three?” Joe asked, taking his customary seat on one side of the table. 

“What? For _both_ of us losing?” Candy asked, taking the open seat next to his ridiculous friend. 

“Way I see it: neither of us lost. So it’s more like we both _won_.”

Candy paused in his reach for the serving spoon speared deep into the mashed potato pot to look beside himself.  
“Joe, I like the way you think,” he said. Then busied himself serving the both of them a steaming helping each of the tantalizing mash. 

“I too like that thought,” Adam piped up from across the main mountain of squished potatoes. “Though, applied to our pa and myself instead.”

“Yeah,” Hoss said around a mouth full of... something that made his words come out a little mushy. “You two’ve had yer fun. Make way for the folks who could prolly make a livin’ playin’ that game.”

“I _did_ just that. Few weeks in Melbourne,” Adam said. To a table of dumbfounded faces. 

“Why’d ya stop?” Candy managed around his surprise. 

“Well, mostly because there wasn’t anyone around who could possibly beat me. More tedious than challenging by that point.”

At the serious explanation, the entire dining room broke out into a jolly jumble of chortles and outright laughing fits which, eventually, even Adam could be heard joining in on. 

Candy took a look around the table, at the other folks wiping laugh tears from their eyes, and took a moment to feel grateful for the hospitality the Ponderosa family had shown him since he’d signed on.  
Then he glanced beside himself to the youngest member of that same family; the guy hugging one, less than completely healed arm to his own chest, and smiled harder than he had all day. Knowing he’d really lucked out to have landed himself someone like Joe Cartwright as a best friend. 

As a _special_ friend, he reminded himself, when the laughing eyes next to him met his with a twinkle. 

Candy could get used to dinners like this, he thought as he stuffed about a fist worth of potato in his gob.  
So long as Joe sat next to him, he wouldn’t be able to help but enjoy himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaww, they're just a couple of saps aren't they? Makes me happy to know there are plenty of saps out there!


	9. The Date

The next several days went by with Candy noting them as not dissimilar to the last few: Full of menial though backbreaking manual labor he was either roped into or had foisted on him, largely by the elder Cartwright brothers, with Joe sneaking out of the house to take an assistant’s position on said jobs. 

One such day saw Candy fixing a line of fence a few miles out from the main base of operation, Joe just watchin’ him —and Hoss that fine day— sweat in the baking sun. Occupying himself by handin’ over shears, twine, wire, and water as they needed it.  
Hoss was so strong that he didn’t strictly _need_ his help lifting the poles into place, but Candy didn’t mind lending a hand anyhow. Especially if him being along to help with the project got Joe out of the house and kept the guy’s big brother from straining anything trying to rebuild broken fence with only a still ‘not cleared for duty’ Joe for moral support.  
Besides, Hoss was always up for a good time. Had a pretty good sense of humor to boot. So even if Candy got a little sunburnt and crawled into bed sore that night, at least he’d had a few laughs along the way. 

Those same days also went by with Candy continuing to be invited for an inordinate number of meals at the Cartwright family table. And the strangest thing about it, was that the invitations came from every direction. Even Ben, one night after a friendly game of chess in which Candy’d had his behind handed to him by the man, had clapped him on the shoulder and asked if he wouldn’t join them for breakfast the next morning. 

Wasn’t anything Candy could’ve said to that aside from, “Yessir, I thank you kindly.”

So that morning he’d showed up, sat himself where he decided he wouldn’t worry that he was starting to think of as ‘his place’, right next to Joe, and began inhaling a delicious meal of sausage, hash browns, and mountains of fluffy eggs. 

About halfway through chow time; Candy was caught by surprise when he heard his name called from the head of the table.  
He looked up, thinking perhaps he’d misheard and the man at the endcap seat was in fact asking about some sort of sweet treat, but when he met the steady eyes of Ben Cartwright himself, he knew he’d indeed heard right.  
“Yessir?” He asked in the least confused tone he could manage. 

“Adam tells me the grain shipment has come into town and I was wondering whether you wouldn’t mind going out to pick it up?” The man _asked_. Confusing Candy further with the lack of any timber of authority to the request. 

“Uh, I’d be glad to,” Candy assured. Forcing his brows not to furrow. At least not while Ben was still looking at him. 

“Wonderful,” his _boss_ said with a pleased nod. “I’ve also heard from Hop Sing,” Ben started, “that Joe has been unnaturally well behaved these past few days. So well behaved, in fact, he’s barely heard a peep out of him.” The ranch’s preeminent pa gave the son in question a pleased glance before going on. “As a reward for all the hard work, and the dedicated rest, I propose the two of you, Candy and Joe, make a day out of it.”

Candy exchanged a look of disbelief with the guy who hadn’t let his pa catch him out of his sling for fear of **actually** being tied to his own bed. Then they looked back to the grownup end of the table and the friendly, silver wreathed face still pointed their way. 

“So long as you come back with the grain, you can _both_ have the day off,” came the words that —judging by the looks directed Ben’s way— not a soul around that dining table ever thought they’d hear. 

“Yessir!”

“Yes, Sir!” Came the happy responses. Soon as the two got over the shock. 

“Well, Good. Matter settled. Let’s finish breakfast before galavanting off, shall we?” 

“Amen to that, Pa,” Hoss said. Prompting everyone to go back to digging in. Candy and Joe moving their mouths double time and stepping away from the table in tandem with just a hair more than strictly scraps left on their plates.  
Candy almost felt bad about that, but his twinge of guilt was completely forgotten when they hit the sunshine of an unclouded Ponderosa morning and Joe turned to him with a smile so wide Candy couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Here’s your next shot at getting to know them better,” Joe enthused as he hit the end of the front porch. 

“Huh?”

“The twins! Or have you forgotten about them already?“ Joe chided, keeping up a brisk pace.

“No, I was just so excited for a second there that I forgot we’d need a wagon and team,” Candy assured. Remembering that they hadn’t taken Milkshake and Butterscotch on the fence job because Hoss preferred to drive cart with his own team, thank you very much. 

“Good. And don’t forget our lunch date. At that cafe?” Joe pulled to an abrupt stop in the exact middle of the yard, then turned to face the guy who was following right on the heels of his excited walk. “You _are_ paying, right?”

“Joe, I am hurt,” Candy said, putting a hand over his heart. Holding there just long enough that Joe’s beseeching look faltered. “A gentleman **always** pays when it was _his_ invitation.”

With a snort, Joe patted him on the arm and led the rest of the way to the barn. Asking a groom, soon as they made it inside, to please pull out the wagon and check the tack while he and Candy gave his horses a quick talking to. 

Candy was glad when the groom only looked at them funny for about a half second before nodding and taking off. Disappearing from sight almost before he had a chance to notice the outline of not pants on the barn dweller’s bottom half, but a full length skirt.  
Huh. Really not all _that_ strange. Candy’d seen lady grooms before. Just, not usually on a ranch the size of the Ponderosa. 

They reached the appropriate stalls and it was almost as if someone had known they’d be needed that fine day, for the two creamiest horses in the main house’s barn were already curried and groomed and ready for a little time in the harness. Stamping front hooves with anticipation when they saw who was coming down the rows to say-

“Heylo there Milkshake. Butterscotch,” Candy greeted, with a tip of the hat to each. Watching as the human who may just have thought of himself as their pa walked right up to one, then the other, and let them each lick a perfect, sparkling sugar cube off his hand. 

“You softies ready for a hard day’s work?” Candy chuckled when Joe’s earnest question received earnest response. Butterscotch rolling his eyes and tossing his head back while Milkshake nickered and stamped a front hoof 

“Means ‘yes’,” Joe explained. Leaning in close to Candy so the excitable equines wouldn’t hear. 

“Uh-huh. And they do that _every_ time?” Candy asked. Not sure what to think when the only answer he got was a shrug. 

“You take the one on the left, I’ll take the one on the right?” Joe suggested. 

“Sure. Say,” Candy started, reaching for the gentle giant’s halter and unlatching the stall door, “do ya always hitch ‘em the same way? With Butterscotch on the left?” He asked as the horse in question practically shoved his own head in the halter. To which, Candy raised an eyebrow and made sure to do the buckle right quick like. 

“Oh, they won’t have it any other way,” said the guy already starting to lead rope the other horse from her stall. 

“Huh. Particular, ain’t they?” Candy said, leading Butterscotch down the aisle behind the others. 

“Eh, not so much more’n most folks. You like your eggs a certain way, right?” Joe said quite reasonably. 

“Ha! I see yer point,” Candy chuckled as the four of them sauntered through the open door to the hitching yard. Where, interestingly enough, he was the only out of the group to balk when a billowing skirt came out from behind the supply hauling cart parked off to one side. 

“Wagon’s been greased and the tack’s all good!” Called that same groom from before. 

“Thanks, Rosy. You got these two lookin’ all prim and proper early today,” Joe commented, giving Milkshake a pat. 

“Well, you should’ve seen them _earlier_! They come in from the paddock looking like Cochise they were so caked in mud. Those babes can’t resist them a morning roll, and always in the wet grass _then_ the dirt,“ Rosy informed with a shake of her head. 

“Oh, well the next time that happens, feel free to interrupt _anything_ and come get me. Because **that** I need to see,” Joe said with a fond grin. 

Which Rosy mirrored before hurrying off to the closest supply shed. A quick, “I’ll grab the rigs,” thrown over one shoulder. 

“Rosy,” Candy mused, soon as the skirt hem disappeared through the shed door, “that short for Rosalind or Rosita or somesuch?”

“Yep. _Both_ actually. Seein’ as one of those is short for the other as it is,” Joe said, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I seen her around some, come to think of it, but she don’t work in the other barns, does she?” Candy asked. Remembering the few times he’d seen her in passing and thought she’d maybe been a kitchen hand or perhaps on the ranch delivering things from somewhere. 

“No. Some of the other hands give her a hard time, so she handles most of all the upkeep in this barn.”

“What? The other grooms jealous of her name or something?“ Candy asked with a questioning cock to his head.

“No, no, it’s not the grooms. It’s the ranch hands.”

“What, too many marriage proposals?” Candy offered. Mostly to try and get a rise out of his strangely sobering friend. 

“No, they all know she’s married. It’s more...” Joe paused and let out a sigh. “She and I tend to treat horses similarly.”

“Oh,” Candy said. Feeling that that fully explained it. 

“Yep,” Joe agreed with another sigh. 

“Two peas in a pod then. Well, good thing you got _her_ lookin’ after these fine animals. They deserve the best,” Candy finished as the four of them finally made to walk out of the last of the barn’s shade and into the sun. 

“Yeah. She sings to them, ya know?” Joe informed. 

“You don’t say? Well, I sing to cattle, out on a drive. Don’t figure it’s too diff’rent.”

“Yeah? Well too bad nobody _else_ sees it that way,” Joe lamented with a shake of his head. 

“Alright, boys!” The whole party looked up at the call for attention. “The reigns _are_ fresh oiled! Just grabbin’ the last of the tack now!” Said the skirted shadow as it ducked into another supply shed not far off. 

“Efficient, i’n’t she?” 

“Says the world’s best loaf?”

“Now, Joe, you know that’s not fair. **We’re** the world’s biggest _loafs_ ,” Candy said, pulling Butterscotch into position for hitching. Pleased when the creature backed between the hitching poles for him without complaint. 

“Alright, here’s the last of the rigging,” Rosy said. Somehow managing to sneak up on Candy while carrying a giant tangle of leather and buckles over one shoulder. “I’ll get Milkshake. Just hold her form me?”

“Like she needs it?” Joe asked with a smirk. 

“True enough. But you can never be too careful,” Rosy cautioned, getting some of the guidelines in place around the patient horse on the right side of the wagon. 

“Yeah, Joe. _You_ can never be too careful. Might wanna work on that,” Candy suggested as he cinched a belt in place under his half of the draft team’s belly. 

“Yeah, you two laugh it up. But don’t complain when I make fun of _you_ the next time one of you rapscallions ends up in a sling,” Joe warned with a huff. 

“ _Next_ time? I’ll have you know I’ve **never** been in a sling and I have no intention of putting myself in one, thank you very much.” Said the groom peering over the back of her horse to give the instigator a _look_. 

“Fine then. It only applies to Candy,” Joe amended. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but I ain't been saddled with one neither and darned if I’m plannin’ on breaking my lucky streak anytime soon,” Candy said. Taking the time to give Joe a _look_ of his own. 

A Joe who rolled his eyes and turned away from the two good for nothings near done with the hitching job.  
“I don’t know why I bother talking to either of you.”

“That’s an easy one, Joe,” Rosy offered.

“Yeah, easiest riddle I ever heard,” Candy said. Continuing when the guy in the green jacket looked back at him. “You’re just attracted to hopeless cases!”

“Hopeless indeed,” Joe said with a shake of his head. Right before joining in the good natured tittering that kept the horse’s ears flipping this way and that. 

 

~

 

Wasn’t long before Rosy’d been thanked for her help and the two rancheros with an official day off were on their way down the drive and making good time towards town. Candy, rather absorbed with admiring the ease with which the dynamic duo pulled their wagon over the rutted path, took a moment to process that Joe was in fact asking him a question. 

“What was that, Joe?”

With a crinkle of his brow, the Cartwright in the sling restarted. “I asked, ‘What kind of foods do ya recon they offer at that cafe? Bear sign? Or fluffy French pastries that fall apart when ya try to take a bite outta them?”

“I’ll kindly ask you to stop your speculatin’; my mouth’s beginning to water and we _just_ ate breakfast too,” Candy said with a glance to the guy sitting next to him on the bench. Who snorted at the request. 

“You don’t know, do ya?” At the protracted silence he got for an answer, Joe shook his head and adjusted his seat. “...S’pose we’ll be findin’ out together then, won’t we?” 

 

~

 

Upon reaching town, the off duty ranch hands put up the wagon and team with the Ponderosa’s favorite in town livery and took a slow walk up and down the boardwalks; waiting for their lunch wave of appetite to hit before making for the alley cafe. 

In front the Main Street Haberdashery, Candy noticed Joe hesitate as they passed the window. When he checked the display himself, it became obvious why.  
“Can’t wait to get back to ridin’, huh?”

“Wha- Oh. That obvious?” Joe asked, tearing his eyes from the selection of gloves and continuing at their previous pace down the walk. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it: Your new pair’ll prolly be in any day and Cochise is enjoying a paid vacation till yer pa clears y’all for duty,” said Candy, voice encouraging. 

“Yeah. Stitching’s holding up on this’n anyway,” Joe said, showing Candy the place where he’d had to cut it off of him over a week previous. 

“Yep. Pa Cartwright knows what he’s doing with a needle and thread,” Candy said with a nod. 

“Who’d’a thought?” 

“Well, if you’ll recall, _I_ did,” reminded Candy. Head held ever so slightly higher at the reminder. 

“Mm. Well, if you’re going to be like _that_ about it,” Joe said. Boots scuffing the boardwalk as he made to turn back the way they’d come. 

“Oh-no ya don’t,” Candy said, hooking an arm around a pair of retreating shoulders. “You promised me lunch.”

“Oh-no, it was _you_ promised **me** lunch, Canaday, and don’t you go ‘forgetting’ it when the bill comes due,” Joe said, allowing himself to be turned back around and ushered further down the shaded walk.

“No worries, Joe. My treat _means_ my treat. Every time, guaranteed,” Candy assured, with his free hand over his heart.  
Pretty sure he caught a smile on his friend’s face as they walked around the corner and continued down the street. His arm still over Joe’s shoulders and showing no sign off being shrugged off. 

 

~

 

“Right this way, boys,” said the waitress who’d greeted them at the door and checked that this was indeed their whole party. Leading them to a table with a pair of comfy chairs arranged one on either end.  
“Menu?”

“Yes, please!” Candy said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation soon as he took his seat.

“Thank you, ma’am. Please excuse my friend’s eagerness; he’s paying,” Joe said, giving Candy a ‘ha’ look across the small tabletop. 

“Yeah, I invited him. It’s a date.” Candy made sure to catch both the waitress and Joe’s reactions to that. Barely keeping a straight face when the other two obviously had difficulty managing the same. 

“A-alright then. That sounds lovely,” the waitress said, laying down a handwritten menu. “Lemme know if y’all want some coffee, cider, or lemonade. It’s all fresh,” she informed before going off to show the next guests to their own table on the opposite side of the cafe. 

“What? Somethin’ I said?” Candy directed at the slightly pinker than before face of the Cartwright sitting across from him. 

“Nope. Just hungry,” Joe assured, snatching up the menu and giving it a good looking over. Eyebrows rising higher the farther down the page his eyes traveled

“What? Something wrong with the selection?” Candy asked. 

“I’ll say: It’s all in French! Créme this and pain that all over the place,” the guy Candy noted was using only one hand to hold the menu lamented. Right before dropping it back to the table in frustration. 

Smirking at his friend as Joe rested his chin on a fist and decided looking out the window would be much more fun than trying to decipher a page full of French while hungry, Candy plucked it up to take a look for himself. Chortling when he checked the reverse side. Also covered top to bottom in handwritten offerings.  
“Uh, Joe?”

“Hm?”

“The back side’s it in English. Cream this an’ bread that all over the place.” Candy couldn’t help the smile when his friend snatched the paper out of his hands and gave it another look. Eyes going wide when he saw the guy in red wasn’t fibbing. 

“Well, don’t need to look so smug about it,” Joe said, as he started reading the English side of things.  
“Mm, they _do_ have bear sign.” Said with a hair more excitement than the other guy at the table thought strictly warranted. 

“Hope that don’t mean they’re keepin’ a bear in the kitchen,” Candy whispered just loud enough that Joe couldn’t miss it, but quiet enough that the returning waitress wouldn’t. To which, Joe hid his face behind the menu, no doubt to hide a smile. 

“Anything to drink?”

“Coffee. Cream and sugar if ya have it,” Candy ordered. 

“A cup of your ‘fine sipping chocolate’ for me,” Joe said from behind his paper shield. Which Candy gave a questioning blink. 

“Alrighty then, one coffee; cream and sugar, and one hot chocolate comin’ right up,” said the waitress in a cheery voice. 

“Uh- On second thought,” Candy started, getting the lady’s attention before she could turn away. “I’ll have one of what he’s having,” he said with a thumb indicating his friend with the menu in place of a head. 

“No problem. Two hot chocolates, comin’ up.” Then she left to see to the other table’s drinking needs. 

“What’n the world did I just order?” Candy asked. Reaching out to bend the stiff menu down so he could see his friend’s face once again. 

“Uh, Adam mentioned, one time or another, that it’s all the rage in Melbourne,” said Joe while smoothing the poor, abused sheet of paper as he set it back down. Once again. 

“Mmhm. That’s wonderful, I’m happy you and your brother have been catching up, but, uh, what exactly _is_ it that’s ‘all the rage’ in Melbourne?” Candy insisted. After all, if he was going to be drinking it, he might as well know what it was he was getting himself into. 

“Well, way he said it, they, uh, go to make coffee, see? But instead of... doing that, they add chocolate powder.” Joe explained. Looking like he was trying his best not to squirm. “He said it was really good.”

“Hm. S’pose if _that’s_ what he said, this oughta be quite the treat,” Candy conceded. Feeling somewhat reassured. 

“Yeah, Adam’s never wrong when it comes to food,” Joe assured with a nod. Which turned into a twitch when the waitress set two cups between them on the table and walked off to deliver the other patrons their drinks.  
“Uh, you first?” 

Candy quirked a brow at the invitation. “There’re two cups, Joe,” he reasoned. 

“Yeah, but, with you treatin’ and all... thought you might wanna try it first.”

“Mmhm. Well, I s’pose the pleasure is mine,” Candy said with an incline of his head. Deciding he didn’t need to press for a _real_ explanation.  
So, resolved to give the new fangled drink a fair shot, he grabbed the _teacup_ by the little handle, brought it to his lips, and took a minuscule sip. Happy that it was already at a good drinking temperature. 

“Well?”

“Hm?” Candy asked, taking a larger sip. 

“How is it?” Joe asked. Releasing a small roll of the eyes when his friend in red took his time swallowing. 

With a smack of the lips, Candy gave his cup an assessing look and said, “I must admit, I’ve never tasted anything _quite_ like it.”

“Y-you mean that in-in a _good_ way, right?” Joe asked. Eyes going big as he did. 

Candy took another sip. Mostly to give himself a moment to ponder how exactly it was someone who wasn’t a puppy nor a child managed an expression like the one staring at him across the table.  
Deciding it would probably always be just another of life’s great mysteries, he cradled the teacup in both hands and answered. “Yes. A _very_ good way.” The smile he got for that got hidden almost before it reached full size by the remaining cup of ‘sipping chocolate’ having a sip taken from it. 

“Hm. Glad we agree. This stuff is delicious!” Joe said, quietly enough so as not to disturb the other folks who Candy only then noticed had been shown in and given a table not far from theirs. 

“Yep. Yer brother’s got his head on the right way ‘round after all. Not that I ever thought otherwise,” he tacked on before Joe could find a way to take offense to the previous statement.  
In case he was in an offense taking mood. 

Both of them looked up when they noticed the server setting drinks on another little table that sat a couple of happy townies, nodding when she turned her head their way with a questioning quirk to her brow. 

“What’ll it be for lunch?” Asked their waitress as she reached the table with the two cowpokes. 

“Well, we’ll have a platter of bear sign fer my friend here,” Candy said, indicating Joe, “and I’d love the French toast.”

“Alright then. Anything for the main course?”

“Hm?” Asked Joe. 

“Come again?” Asked Candy. 

“Oh, if dessert is what you came for, that’s fine!” She said with a reassuring smile. 

“French toast is a dessert?” Candy asked, bewildered. He’d only ever eaten it for breakfast, every diner he’d ever ordered it. 

The lady nodded, a few loose curls bouncing at either side of her tidy bun. “It is in France, so that’s the way we serve it here.”

“Huh. Ya don’t say,” Candy said, raising an eyebrow at the guy across the table who was currently shaking his head at him, pretending he’d already known all about the culinary divide between the two countries.  
“That case, I’ll have the French toast _after_ the onion soup.”

“Alrighty. Would you like the bread or the mixed greens with your soup?”

“How ‘bout a half serving of both?” Candy suggested. Figuring he was gonna have to choose either or when the server’s brow crinkled. Like she was hearing something that just didn’t sit right.

“And I’ll have the other half servings. With the, uh- with the onion soup, of course,” said Joe. Handing the menu back to their waitress and pretending he hadn’t ordered that just so Candy could have what he wanted. 

With the nice lady wearing the apron off to tell the cooks what it was the room wanted, Joe leaned over the table and made a ‘come here’ motion with one finger.  
Candy, not one twinge of hesitation to the movement, leaned forward. Close enough that their conversation would be private. Though, perhaps a little more conspicuous than otherwise. 

“What did I just order?”

“Well, I don’t rightly know, Joe. I just know that I like onions and I like soup. So I figured they’d prolly taste good put together,” Candy explained.

“Is there gonna be a whole, boiled onion in my bowl? Because if there is, your eating a double serving,” Joe warned. A cringe suggesting that he wasn’t kidding. 

“Let's hope it doesn’t come to that. ‘Sides, I don’t think _any_ one would pay money for a boiled onion in a bowl. Not if it was the only hot food left in the territory,” Candy said with a shake of his head. 

“Yeah, I suppose not,” said a rather relieved Joe, relaxing back to a normal seating position. Leaving one, likely tender forearm resting on the table. Probably testing whether that was a more comfortable place to keep it while they waited for their first course. 

 

~

 

By the time the onion soup made its appearance, both little cups of fine sipping chocolate had been drained and surreptitiously had the last drops scraped out of them by a handy couple of spoons their waitress had been thoughtful enough to provide them with.  
Though, probably to be used on the soup, but Joe and Candy were used to things serving double duty, living on a ranch the way they did, so they simply licked them clean and set them back where they’d been. Hoping no one in there would be the wiser. 

“Your soups, boys,” said their waitress as she set down one then the other of the bowls, followed closely by the two half servings of leafy green things and funky, stick shaped breads. 

“Thank ya kindly,” said Candy, with a tip of the hat. Which he only then realized he probably should have left on the hat rack by the front door when he’d walked in. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Joe agreed, peering with as much subtlety as he could scrounge up into his soup bowl. Breathing a sigh of relief which Candy mentally echoed after a quick glance into his own bowl. 

“See? Just soup,” Candy whispered while the food bearer made her way back toward the kitchen. 

“Mmhm. And it looks delicious,” Joe said. With a confidence Candy was sure he didn’t actually feel. 

“Let me guess: I have the honors of the first taste yet again?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Joe confirmed. One hand making an ‘after you’ motion. 

“Wonderful,” Candy said. Right before tasting the first dainty spoonful of his new favorite soup. 

 

~

 

“I wasn’t being serious, Candy! You didn’t really have to pay for my meal; I have money just fine,” Joe said, gesticulating rather excitedly as soon as the cafe door closed behind them. 

“Well, Joe, it’s like I said: A gentleman _always_ pays. When it was-“

“His invitation. Yeah. Well, I wouldn’t wanna rob you of your ‘gentleman’ status. So, thanks. For the meal,” Joe said. Toeing the cafe’s front porch. Demeanor suddenly tipping toward bashful. 

“Weren’t no trouble, Joe. Believe it or not, I _like_ spendin’ time with you.” Candy took notice when it seemed Joe’s bashfulness did the opposite of abate. What with the guy tweaking the brim of his hat lower in an attempt to hide his face as they began walking down the alley back toward the main road full of shops. 

“I like you alright too,” Joe admitted. Moving a hand to scratch at his own chest. The action only catching Candy’s eye for it being done with the hand that, these days, generally resided in a sling. 

Candy schooled his face to stay neutral when the arm didn’t fall back to Joe’s side. “The wrist buggin’ ya?” He asked, barely above a whisper. Studying his friend’s face at the question. 

“...Just a twinge,” the prideful guy admitted. Quietly enough that it didn’t worry Candy right off. 

“Hm. Must’ve been all the window shopping. Admiring things ya _know_ you can’t afford can put quite a strain on the body,” Candy intoned as they reached the end of the alley and found that town was a good deal busier now than it had been when they’d arrived. With folks on their merry ways up and down the boardwalks and the occasional cart rumbling here and there.  
The two of them nodded at the least busy walk, climbed the provided few steps, and began a leisurely post lunch stroll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how did Candy and Joe's date go? I think they enjoyed it pretty good! :D  
> Hope everyone's weekend is going great!


	10. Trouble In Paradise

Joe and Candy’s stroll came to an end when they found themselves about back where they’d originally started. Across the street from the livery stable. Both aware it was just about time to collect that grain seed they’d been promised. 

“I’ll let Jody know we’re bringin’ the wagon ‘round,” Joe said, ready to continue on toward the mercantile and the only chore they’d been given for the day. 

“She’ll be pleased as pie at the extra work!” Were Candy’s parting words as he turned to take the steps down to street level. 

Beginning his crossing of the wide dirt road, Candy’s ears perked upon hearing a horse transitioning into a gallop. Figuring it must be a courier with an important package trying to make a deadline they’d forgotten about, he hurried to clear the outbound side of the street. Brow furrowing when the thunder of hooves hitting hard packed dirt got jumbled as they echoed off the surrounding buildings, making it sound almost as if the horse was changing course. Maybe even angling straight for-

“Candy!”

At the call of his name, the vaquero in the very center of the street glanced up and had a split second to take in the sight of a horse and rider **tearing** straight for him, before he was knocked clean off his feet and into the dust. But not by the oncoming, mad dashing horse. No, whatever’d hit him had come from a completely different side and was smaller, softer, and far less dangerous. Something that flashed green in the corner of his eye right as it took his place in the path of the oncoming-  
Wait. Green?

“Joe?!” He felt himself yell as the horrid sound of an almost faltering lope grew distant and he shoved himself out of the dirt with a desperation he wanted no part of. A desperation which did anything but abate when he span around and took in the sight of his best friend sprawled in the road. A set of hoof tracks to his either side. 

“ _Joe_?!” Candy repeated. Already racing heart beating even faster when he realized the horse and rider could always swing around for another pass. At the sound of a whimper though, all other concerns fled as he realized Joe wasn’t getting up on his own. 

Frustrated when his first step was more of a stumble, Candy gave his head a shake, ignoring the trembling he could feel in his extremities, and got himself over there fast as he could. 

“Joe, why’d you go and do a fool thing like that?” Candy demanded, pulling Joe to his feet, up and out of the dirt. “It’s pure folly; you know I can hop out the way with the best of ‘em,” he said, just to fill the air while directing the both of them as close to the side of the lane as he could.  
All the while feeling desperate fingers gripping his red shirted arms, quickly cutting off the circulation to his hands, as he strained to keep his unsteady friend upright. 

“E’en the best of ‘em trip up event’lly.” Joe managed as they finally made it even somewhat ‘out of the road’. Locking eyes with Candy before trying for more. “My only folly... was fallin’ for **you** ,” Joe whispered. Before what felt like his entire weight slumped face first into Candy’s shoulder.

“Joe? Joe?!” Candy stopped himself from shaking the limp body, only still upright for the support of his arms, when he realized how slurred Joe’s speech had been. Somehow knowing that that was a bad sign. 

“Joseph?! _Joe_?!”

Candy looked up at the harried shouts to see a black streak bolting toward them from the middle of a crowd forming on the nearest boardwalk.  
Considering it sounded worried more than aggressive, Candy turned his attention back to the whitening friend he was doing his best to continue supporting as he lowered him to the ground. Then, feeling the color going out of his own face, he put a hand below Joe’s nose and held it there. Wishing he could ignore the frantic staccato his own heartbeat had become.  
“Thank God,” he let out at the feeling of warm air against his palm.  
Joe hadn’t stopped breathing. 

“Canaday, what happened?” And now Adam Cartwright was kneeling in the dirt on Joe’s other side. Right across from him.  
“Hoss is getting a doctor. Meantime, I need you to tell me what happened,” Candy heard through the rushing in his ears. 

“He- he pushed me. A horse- Someone was trying to run me over and Joe...” he trailed off and just watched as Adam pulled his littlest brother’s jacket front completely open and put an ear right down on his chest. Resting there only a scant few seconds before sitting to a hunch and pulling one, then the other of Joe’s eyelids open, giving a nod after each.  
Then, face grim but not quite dire, Adam looked up and Candy didn’t have the energy to squirm as the older brother gave him a quick study. 

“You’re hurt?” 

“What?”

“Your hand. It’s bleeding,” came the flat statement that prompted Candy to think of his own health for the first time since he’d been shoved. 

The ex army brat looked at his palms, laying face up in his kneeling lap, and balked at the sight of blood. Smeared across one hand.  
But, he couldn’t remember catching it on anything sharp enough to cause such damage. No, the only thing he’d really touched had been-  
“Joe?” He asked, reaching for where he’d cradled the unconscious head to the ground. Fingers coming away wet with more slick, red-

“Blood. He must’ve gotten himself kicked,” Adam bit off, more to himself than to the guy sitting an arms length away, unable to tear his gaze from his own trembling-  
“ **Candy**.” His eyes snapped up at the use of his name. “Calm down. I know this looks bad- I know _just_ how bad this feels, but the best thing we can do for Joe right this second is keep a level head. So match your breathing to mine,” Adam said, in a voice that compelled Candy to comply, “and we’ll help Joe get through this _together_. Alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, alright,” Candy managed. Wetting his lips and hoping the feeling came back to his limbs soon. Unable to focus on anything aside from the fact that Joe hadn’t moved an inch since making like the world’s most life like rag doll.  
That is, until two figures came around the curious crowd and Candy was forced to turn his head in order to see them proper. 

“ _Joe_?!” Asked a disbelieving Hoss upon laying eyes on the three down in the dirt. Nearly dropping his end of the stretcher he was helping maneuver alongside his injured brother. Face a strange shade of shocked.

“Alright, first responders, let’s get him on the stretcher,” said the person directing through her own actions for Hoss to allow the contraption to lay flat on the ground. Then she cradled Joe’s head as his older brothers moved him onto the waiting stretch of cloth. Then, soon as Adam and Hoss had Joe in the stretcher, off the ground and ready to go, the lady turned on Candy. Who’d stood up out of the dirt at some point without his knowing so.  
“Clear a path for us. Office is past that throng and other side of the general store,” said with authority of a level that rivaled any drill sergeant Candy’d grown up avoiding. 

Without his say so, his wooden legs marched him off and his voice preceded his arms in clearing the curious masses from the boardwalk. Empty promises of their being ‘nothing to see here’ successful in running off all but the most dedicated busybodies. 

Figuring the door with the words, Rosebaum, M.D. in gold letters _couldn’t_ be the wrong one, Candy flung it open and held it there for the coming procession. 

“Go get my husband,” the lady with the dark braid running down her back said to Hoss, soon as Joe, stretcher and all, had been deposited on an examination table along one wall. “He’s working on the tailor’s roof, one street over.”

“Yes’m,” said Hoss’s after image as the behemoth himself fled out the door Candy was still holding open. 

“What’s his name? What happened? Any pre-existing conditions?” The lady asked of Adam as she turned to a near desk and extracted a stethoscope. 

“Joseph; he was bowled over by a rider and horse, maybe took a hoof to the head; and none to speak of. Also, pupil response seemed alright.” At the last sentence, the only one in the room wearing a dress looked up from where she was busy listening to Joe’s heart with what appeared to be surprise. 

“You are a physician?” She asked, plucking the stethoscope from her ears and putting it back whence it had come. 

“No. Just been around enough of them to pick up a few things.” Adam offered. No pretension. 

“That kind of skill can come in handy.”

“It has more than once. Fair share of minor injuries on a ranch,” Adam said by way of explanation. 

“Hm. I’ll bet,” she said, leaning to get a good look in Joe’s manually opened eyes. Just as Candy’d seen Adam do out on the street. Also nodding after each. 

“Oh, Lord,” said a blanching man stopped right inside the office door which Candy realized he was **still** holding open. Hand glued fast and showing no sign of letting go anytime soon.  
The thought almost worried him.  
“What happened to that poor man?”

“My sweet,” the lady greeted, bending to examine the ‘suspected impact sight’ Adam was pointing out in a barely necessary gesture, considering the slow trickle of blood beginning to show on the stretcher’s already splotchy fabric. “Could you please bring out the stitching supplies, dear?” She asked. Cool as a cucumber even with her nose only inches from an oozing... ‘impact sight’. 

“Y-yes, right away!” The new guy said before nearly stumbling to the back of the room and riffling through a cabinet Candy hadn’t bothered noticing before then.  
Behind ‘my sweet dear’, Hoss entered the office and gave Candy a nod, wiping a hand across his sweated brow. Understandably out of breath. Like Candy himself. 

A small sound drew every eye to the table against the wall. Another drew every body closer, save the doorman who’s brain wouldn’t loosen his fingers from ‘round the stupid doorknob. 

“Joseph? Can you hear me?” Braid asked, leaning to be in line with the pale face on the table. 

“Wha?” The confused syllable that followed a brown set of eyes opening, _just_ out of sync. 

“Joseph, can you hear me?” 

“Whoor you?” 

“I’m Doctor Rosebaum. Do you know what day it is, Joseph?” Prompted the —Candy doubletook as her words registered— _doctor_.

“Grain day... at the gen’ral store.” Rosebaum glanced at Adam, who confirmed the slurred statement with a nod. 

“Good. Do you remember what happened, Joseph?” 

“A horse...” Joe’s eyes went wide and Adam glanced up, straight at the statue by the office’s entrance. “Candy- He was comin’ fer Candy!”

“Shh, lie still; you bumped your head.” The doctor said, putting a hand on her patient’s chest and motioning for her husband to set up a tiny table top with long fold out legs at her side.  
“Now-“

“Is ‘e okay? Where-“

“Don’t worry, Joe. He’s right here and there’s not a scratch on him,” Adam informed, making a ‘come here’ motion in the direction of the door. 

“Adam?” Joe asked, more confused than ever. 

“Yes. Me and Hoss also had business in town to-“

“Hoss’s here?” Joe asked. Not sounding any less slurred.

“Yep,” Hoss supplied. Poking his head into his little brother’s line of sight. 

“Huh,” came the bewildered response. A moment before worry returned to Joe’s face. “And Candy?”

“I’m here, Joe,” Candy said. Finally finding his voice and with it, the power of will to pry his hand from the doorknob and walk across the office to the table and the semicircle of folks standing around it. Stiff legs stopping him just shy of bumping the table.  
Joe directed his gaze to the newcomer and when Candy saw the open eyes of his friend soften as they met his, a knot of something he hadn’t been able to identify until then loosened in his chest.  
The feeling of horrid dread wasn’t quite so sharp after that. 

“Joseph,” said the Doctor, bringing everyone back to business. “We’re going to give you a little something to help you rest now. Drink this and relax. Your friends will be near,” she said, doling a helping of something from a brown bottle out into the bowl of a small spoon. 

At the nods and words of reassurance from his older brothers, Joe slurped down the medication and was dozing soundly in no time flat. 

“Alright,” Doc Rosebaum started, uncovering the tray her husband had lain out for her. Revealing the well appointed stitching kit. “Adam, is it?”

“Uh, yes- Silly of me. I’m Adam, this is Hoss, he’s Candy, and we’re family,” informed the oldest present Cartwright, indicating at once the whole room of them. To which Candy’s eyes went just a little wide. Until he remembered that _every_ body must’ve been shaken up and Adam could easily have misspoken.  
After all; the stern guy couldn’t possibly have meant to indicate Candy was family too. That just... wouldn’t make sense. 

“Alright,” said the doc. “Anyone squeamish can turn around, leave the office, or plain close their eyes.” When a survey of the room revealed no takers, the doc leaned in close to Adam and whispered near his ear. 

Adam must’ve agreed with something she whispered, because he nodded and stepped away from the table. Catching Candy’s shoulder as he did and motioning for him to follow him outside, into the open air of a pleasant afternoon. Closing the door behind them. 

“Where we goin’?” Candy asked, anxious to get back. 

“Oh, right about here, I reckon,” said the man in black. Taking a seat on the boardwalk, right in front of the office and next to the stairs leading to it. Legs dangling over the edge. 

Confused but feeling compelled to follow his boss’s example, Candy parked himself on the next plank over, mirroring Adam’s posture. 

After a while of watching folks bustling here and there, families out buying groceries for the week; life in the city continuing around them as if nothing harrowing had just happened, Adam spoke from under his hat brim. Not bothering to look over as he did.  
“Doc said you were lookin’ a little green around the gills in there.” _Then_ he looked at him. Right in the face. “Color’s better out here. Just needed some fresh air.”

“I didn’t notice. I’m not usually squeamish,” Candy said, realizing even as he did that being outside _was_ agreeing with him. 

“Yeah, well, neither am I. But... it’s different when it’s someone you care about. Worst when it’s someone you love.”

“You got _that_ ri-“ Candy felt his voice catch when his mind caught up with what Adam’d said.  
Fist _family_ and now **love**? What was this Cartwright getting at?!

“It’s alright; I’ve known for a while now. Encouraged it even,” Adam said, giving the back of his own neck a scratch. Acting as if what he was saying made even a _lick_ of sense. 

After a pause in which Candy felt his spine growing rather taught, the man in red wetted his lips and took his best guess. “You mean the picnic?”

“Yep.”

“So you _knew_ -“

“That Joe reserves picnics for dates?” Adam asked. A smile threatening to break up his understandably solemn carriage. “‘Course. And I ‘ _knew_ ’ he’d enjoy it. He is my brother, after all.”

“But-“

“And if I remember correctly: The only thing _you_ had against the idea, was you thinking Joe wouldn’t like it. Even though you treat exclusively dates to such as well.”

“How could you know such a thing about me? _I’m_ not your brother,” Candy asked, feeling an ounce of frustration slip through with the question.  
Thankfully, Adam just smirked harder. 

“Maybe not, but you’re my brother’s friend. And I keep tabs on that capricious kid brother of mine,” he said, inclining his head at a bonneted one that’d turned their direction from the opposite boardwalk. Manners not forgotten even in a time of stress. 

“Is that what you and Hoss were doin’ in town? You followed us?!” Another thing to add to the list of things Candy was having trouble believing he was hearing. 

“Ha! You should be so lucky!” Adam said, really laughing for perhaps the first time Candy’d ever heard from him.  
“Not those kind of tabs; we were in town on a supply run of our own. Old man gave _us_ the heavy lifting.”

“But if all of us were headed into town, why didn’t we leave at the same time? Keep each other comp’ny?” Candy asked with a kink to his brow. 

“Eh, Hoss mentioned four being a crowd and said he wanted to re-grease the wheels before taking off. Couldn’t argue with that logic.” Adam waved an off handed greeting at someone he must’ve known who was popping his head out the door of the hotel. Across the way and down a few spaces. 

“Hoss is in on... _all this_? You trying to-“

“Oh, we’re not ‘trying to’ anything. You and Joe were doing just _fine_ on your own. Just,” he started with a smirk, “needed a little push.”

Both men sitting on the boardwalk blinked at the... unfortunate choice of verb. Reminding all too well of their reason for enduring the wooden perch in the first place. 

Candy worried his lip, trying not to think about the blood he could **feel** drying on the hand he hadn’t thought to wash off while he’d been in the doctor’s office.  
Hm. Maybe the red streak had been why the walkway had cleared so readily when he came near. Hadn’t needed to touch a soul because they didn’t want to clean blood out of their Sunday best. Or Friday best, or whichever day it happened to be’s best. 

Candy sighed and admitted to himself that he couldn’t keep the question inside a moment longer. “Why’d he do it? I could’ve jumped out the way on my own. He _knows_ I-“ 

A hand on his shoulder stopped Candy, and he was shocked to find it imparted not any sort of disappointment nor blame, but a camaraderie he’d never felt from the man in black. 

“I’ve always known Joe was special. Just didn’t know _how_ special... until now,” he said, turning his head in a pointed look right at Candy. “And if someone that special will jump in front of a horse for you, I’d say that makes you pretty special too.” 

Candy sat there, silent and just plain staring back, unable to understand how Joe’s brother could be both so stoic and yet so... compassionate? Insightful he’d known, but, for the eldest heir to an empire like the Ponderosa to accept a saddle tramp like him as a ‘special friend’ for his baby brother?  
He must’ve trusted Joe’s judgment a lot more than it seemed.  
And, if Adam could swallow his worry over what’d just happened well enough to comfort _him_ -

“Welcome to the family. Candy Canaday,” Adam said, but a moment before pulling the guy sitting next to him into as full on a hug as could be managed. One Candy realized the guy had no intention of letting him out of until he hugged back. So as soon as his arms would listen, he pulled them up and wrapped them around the solid, _comforting_ presence of his best friend’s oldest brother. Feeling as if, maybe this was what having an older sibling must’ve felt like. 

In that brief moment, Candy understood what it was Joe saw in his pa’s number one son. And in that same moment, he came to realize that something he’d once thought of as a distant possibility had indeed come to pass: He and Adam Cartwright had become friends. 

At the sound of the door behind them opening, Adam disentangled himself, stood from his seat on the boardwalk planks and dusted himself off.  
Candy followed suit but couldn’t help feeling self conscious when he had to finish with a good rub to the eyes. Which everyone politely ignored. 

“The stitches are in and your brother assisted me in assessing Joseph for additional injuries. We found several bruises which look as if they’ll be a bother but nothing more and all seemed stable when I palpated Joseph’s ribs,” came exactly the update they’d been waiting for. 

“That sounds promising,” Adam said, sharing a hopeful glance with Candy. 

The doctor pursed her lips through a nod. “Indeed. ‘Hoss’ also explained to me Joseph’s most recent previous injury, which I examined and believe was re-injured in _today’s_... incident.” She paused a moment to allow her audience space to process.  
“Was the wrist seen to by a doctor?”

“Uh, no; nothing seemed broken so we wrapped it and put it in a sling,” Candy found himself saying.

“Hm. He _kept_ it in the sling?”

“Oh yes’m. Our pa was strict on that one: dern near locked him indoors for three days,” Hoss offered. 

“And after that?”

“Kept it in the sling and let it alone for a few more days. Still wearin’ it ‘bout half the time now,” Candy supplied. Since he’d spent arguably more time with Joe those following days than the other Cartwrights had.  
By design, as it just so happened. 

“Hm. That sounds promising,” said the doc, brow furrowed. “I’ll give it another look, but it’s feeling unstable enough at this point that I’ll want it splinted at least two weeks. And in a sling until further notice.”

“We can handle that. Anything else we should know, Dr.?” Adam asked. 

The lady with the braid gave the oldest among them a look that quirked at the end and nodded. “I’d like to keep him for observation, the entire night, as I both think we should be sure he’s stable before moving him, and I want to be sure the head wound closes and _stays_ that way for good.”

“Absolutely,” Adam agreed with a firm nod. 

“Very well then. If you’d like to see him before you’re off?” The doc asked, motioning toward her door. 

So, all with a unanimous look of ‘yes, please’ about them, the party walked back in the office to whisper their slumbering member a jumble of well wishes. Candy doing his best not to become lost in thought as he felt himself outright stare at the slumbering reminder of what had nearly happened to him, and _had_ happened to his best friend.  
Then the three of them bid Dr. Rosebaum and Mr. Rosebaum a good day as Adam began herding them toward the door and then across the street where they acquired lodgings for what was promising to be a long, uncomfortable night of ‘observation’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Poor _everyone_. Good thing Adam's as level headed as he is! And that Hoss has a lot of experience helping out with injuries! Even if those're probably more with animals than humans!  
>  Hopefully everything is looking up from here for the Ponderosa boys!


	11. Adam’s Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's been great through all of the near death happenings of late. Here we get a little look-see at the stalwart eldest Cartwright brother's thoughts on the matter.

Adam wasn’t sure why it was, but for the most part, many times throughout his life, when tragedy struck or emergencies reared their ugly heads, he managed to keep a level head and generally be of more use than he might’ve expected.

Similarly, this newest incident had left him shaken, but not too terribly stirred, in the midst of a flurry of circumstances he wouldn’t have expected to stay calm for.   
But Hoss had been there and Adam had seen his hands shaking with nerves, and Candy had needed someone to keep him grounded while Joe was in trouble. The kind of trouble Candy must have realized he couldn’t just pull the kid out of. A trouble Joe had put himself right in the path of in order to ensure his friend’s safety. _Candy’s_ safety. 

A move Adam, in all honesty, couldn’t blame his baby brother for. Considering _he’d_ have done the exact same thing if it were to keep a member of his family safe. In fact, he’d settle for straight across trading places with Joe, if that were even remotely an option. 

Adam also mused, looking across their rented hotel room at a haunted, red shirted figure, hunched upon the edge of the bed across from the one on which he sat, that had the roles been reversed, Candy would be the one spending the night in the Doctor’s office. Prognosis uncertain though not so serious as to necessitate sending for their pa.   
As it was, they’d merely sent a courier with a quickly penned missive detailing, in brief, what had happened and why they wouldn’t be back until sometime the next day. 

At Hoss’s quick thinking, Adam had also jotted down concerns voiced by Doc Rosebaum. Such as whether there wasn’t a room on the first floor of their home Joe could spend the most crucial days of his recuperation.   
No doubt by the time they rolled up to the house, Pa and Hop Sing would have the guest room refitted as a convalescent ward. A look of pained worry affixed to their faces no matter Joe’s obvious condition at time of arrival.

Giving one last, solid ponder as to the conundrum of his own present calmness, Adam looked across to the silhouette of his middle brother seated on the room’s window sill and opened his mouth for the first time in what felt like too long for a group of three to have stayed silent.   
“Dinner? I’ve been assured the room service is top notch.”

Two throats cleared themselves in the ensuing second. At the end of which, Hoss was the next of the room’s occupants to speak. “That sounds fine, Adam, but, uh, nothin’ fer me. I’m not all that hungry... at present.”

Two heads twitched a double take at the backlit rancher at the admission. Then they looked towards each other, where they shared a moment of decidedly concerned eye contact.   
Hoss never said no to the offer of a hot meal. _Most_ who worked as hard as the guy with the ten gallon hat couldn’t afford to. Never knowing when the next offer might come their way. 

“Alright then. Steak good for you, Candy?” Adam asked. Pretending nothing at all was amiss. Nothing aside from the fact that one of their group wouldn’t be joining them for dinner.   
Or two. If he let himself think like that. 

“Yeah. Steak’d be great. Thanks, Adam.” Wondering whether he’d picked it up from Joe, Adam had to applaud Candy’s ability to sound both excited and terribly sad at the same time. Then with as casual an exit as he could manage, Adam chanced leaving the two without adult supervision long enough to place an order for three steak dinners.   
Hoss wouldn’t blame him for ordering for all three of them, regardless of his having declined dinner. After all, Adam _was_ understandably distracted, and under normal circumstances, that _would_ have been their order.   
Besides that: Hoss wasn’t the kind to let good food go to waste. 

So Adam smirked to himself as he took the stairs back to their room and was pleased to find nothing childish had happened while he’d been away. 

“It’ll be up soon,” he said as he retook his seat. Realizing within seconds that he could not think of a single thing more to say. Nothing to lighten the mood nor lift the oppressive silence that enveloped them as if they were some sort of mourning party at someone dear’s wake-

Adam took a steadying breath through his nose.   
There was no call for such morbid thinking. Joe was going to be fine and all four of them would head home tomorrow and resume life just as it had been.   
He needed to believe that. For Hoss and Candy if not for himself.

 

~

 

Adam grinned into his last bite of steak as he watched an amused Candy hand over the left overs of his meal to the biggest guy in the room. The one who’d said he wasn’t hungry.   
The remainder of the younger, _smaller_ ranchero’s dinner going to good use filling in the corners of Hoss’s poor stomach, which hadn’t seen a scrap of food since breakfast early that morning. Adam and Hoss having been about to put some lunch in themselves when a commotion had broken out in town; shouts of someone having been run over by a madman on a brute of a horse having called the two of them to action. 

Remembering unbidden the shock that had taken him when he’d burst through the growing group of gawking townspeople and caught sight of Candy cradling his brother to the ground, Adam busied himself with clearing the empty plates from the furniture. Setting them on the floor outside the door in plain view for the waitstaff, then going back for the cups and now empty wine bottle the maîtra d’ had so thoughtfully sent along for their meal.   
The Californian vineyard red Sauvignon had complimented the meal perfectly and Adam had had a laugh watching Candy try, try, and try again to enjoy, or in the very least _appreciate_ , the supplied spirits. Ultimately though, the poor fellow had relinquished his cup, along with the leftover portion of his sizable meal, to the other person in the room who’d ever tasted such a drink before. 

Adam had also had himself a chuckle watching Hoss use the robust wine as a liquid chaser to his meal as opposed to a flavor enhancer. Smacking his lips with a relieved sigh when the deep colored remnants of his glass helped the final swallow go down easy.   
Setting the bottle and glasses out by the plates, Adam wondered how it could possibly have happened that their pa’s appreciation for a good wine had been lost on the two youngest Cartwrights. Considering it was served often enough and they’d watched Ben and then Adam doing it the right way for the majority of their upbringings. 

Adam mused that it must take a certain kind of person with a certain sort of temperament to grow properly fond of the grape derived selections of alcoholic beverages.   
Shutting their room door for the night, Adam wondered whether Julius Caesar had enjoyed wine in a fashion more similar to his brothers, or perhaps in a way befitting a Roman of such high standing. He supposed were it the former, the fact wouldn’t have made it into the history books anyway. 

With his belly full of good food, and no more dishes in danger of being accidentally dropped and broken, Adam walked back to where he’d been using a bed as a seat and retook his perch with a contented sigh.   
Starting to feel his helping of the complimentary bottle of wine swimming comfortably somewhere up in his brain, Adam reclined and stretched his body out, finding himself surprised by the quality of the mattress. Then, with a satisfied expression at the pleasant discovery, Adam decided there was no reason he shouldn’t and laid his head on the pillow on the far side of the bed. 

He ended up spending quite a few minutes doing absolutely nothing but staring at the ceiling. Marinating in the silence of a once again, or perhaps _still_ , taught atmosphere and eventually found himself wishing it was instead filled with the annoying, childish, joviality his baby brother exuded effortlessly. 

After all, if Joe were there, Adam thought, with a quick glance at the room’s other occupants, he’d know what to say- know exactly what to do to bring Hoss and Candy out of their worried stupor. Help them to relax and agree to get themselves some sleep.   
If Joe were here- if... if only. 

At last, Adam found himself wondering if he wasn’t a little less okay with... everything than he’d initially thought. Especially so when his face grew uncomfortably warm and the ceiling took on a bleary sheen. 

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, nor alarm either of his roommates, Adam turned away from the room and onto his side, hoping the wall and its patterned wallpaper as a change of scenery would help him center his fluxing emotions.   
He soon found himself rather disappointed when all it did was grant him a privacy which served to bolster the downward swing of his suddenly stormy psyche. 

Joe was hurt. His youngest brother was laid up in a doctor’s office, only comfortable enough for sleep with the help of an **opium** derived medication, and all Adam could do about it was lay on his side and cry.

Oh. Shoot. Those _were_ tears. He thought he’d been exaggerating, but a nonchalant hand rubbed across his eyes proved that there were indeed tears pooling in their corners. Threatening to-  
Never mind. There were two fat little tears crawling sideways down his face, one over the ridge of his nose. Both promising more to come as they nuzzled themselves into the pillow where it cupped the dry side of Adam’s head. 

At least he had had the presence of mind to hide his face beforehand. Otherwise, who knows how the others would have reacted. Anywhere between derision at the sight of water escaping a mature adult’s eyes and possibly nose, to joining him when they realized the stoic one of them had been putting up a brave front the whole time. 

Great. His nose _was_ starting to leak, Adam realized with a muted sort of horror as his inquiring hand came away this time with a thicker sort of water on it.  
Distracted as he searched for an acceptable place to wipe the slime, Adam realized too late that his nose had demanded of him one of the most incriminating things it possibly could have: A sniffle. 

At the sound of a throat clearing somewhere behind him, Adam realized that there really was no such thing as privacy in a room as small as the one they’d taken for the night.   
He closed his eyes in mortification as he heard Candy switch his seat from Hoss’s bed to the one they were sharing for the night. On account of the room only having two and Hoss being big enough to take up a whole bed on his own. Followed closely by Hoss relinquishing his place at the window for a seat on his own bed. No doubt taking the vacancy as an excuse to come closer. 

“Uh, I been meanin’ to thank ya, Adam,” Adam heard Candy start. Sounding just as sad as earlier, but with a touch of concern as opposed to excitement mixed in this time. Prompting the older man to open his eyes back up in curiosity. “Fer helpin’ me out while- uh- when, well... you know.” Adam couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the wall at the halting, embarrassed sentiment.   
“What I mean to say is,” he heard Candy start again. “Thanks fer helpin’ me keep it together. It was tough for a while there.”

“Yeah, Adam.” Started Hoss from his no longer quite so far off perch. “Don’t think there’s a soul around could’ve handled it better’n you did. Talkin’ with the doc an’ all. No one else knows the kinda stuff ‘bout doctorin’ you do. ‘Cept the doctor, ‘course,” Hoss ended with what sounded like a sad smile. 

Hm. Not _quite_ what Adam had expected as a reaction from the glorified cow hands who’d spent the last several hours mostly stunned by the horrid tragedy that’d destroyed the easy feel to their day. In fact, he was touched by it and pleased to feel his unwanted, dark thoughts pushed farther from his mind with every kind word they shared.   
Knowing he’d need to say _something_ , Adam cleared his throat, making it sound as incidental a noise as possible, a relative feat given how thick it felt, and nodded at the wall before making to speak. But before he could, he heard Hoss stand and so chanced a peek over his shoulder to see what for. 

“Thanks fer bein’ here, Adam. Fer comin’ back. I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Hoss said. Passing it off as a joking compliment as he turned out the room’s wall lantern and made his way back over to his bed. 

Comforted by the sudden darkness of the room, Adam wiped at his face a final time, pleased when he didn’t feel any more tears ready to spill over, and relaxed his bid for privacy; moving to stare at the blank expanse of ceiling once again before speaking.   
“I’m glad to hear the two of you couldn’t get along without me.” He let a couple of chuckles die out before saying more. “You’re welcome, Hoss. Candy.” He swallowed when his throat felt thick again. “I’m glad to be back. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, shucks,“

“Shucks, Adam,” came the twin embarrassed replies. At which, Adam couldn’t help but smile. Out loud. 

Morbid mood disturbed at long last, the three glorified Ponderosa cow punches decided it was well enough time for some well deserved shut eye and got themselves ready for a nice lay down.   
None of them had any extra clothes to speak of, so they took off incidental pieces that’d get in the way of sleeping and, at least Candy and Adam anyway, didn’t bother with pulling back the covers. Perfectly comfortable in their day clothes without need of an extra layer. 

They’d only taken the hotel room for want of a roof over their heads, some walls to stave off the chill, and something soft to lay on until morning rolled around. Once the town came alive they’d be checking out and the Cartwright family would be homeward bound with one _even_ worse for wear Joe for Pa and Hop Sing to fret over.   
Things were not going to be dull around the house. Not with Joe confined to bed rest and anyone older than him making sure he got it. Especially with _everyone_ being older than him. 

With a careful sigh, grateful when it didn’t catch in his throat, Adam adjusted his head against his pillow, and tried not to feel weird about it when he glanced next to himself and a ripple of gratefulness hit him at the knowledge that at least Candy hadn’t been injured as well. 

A small smile tugging his lips as he thought about how happy that’d make his baby brother, Adam let his eyes close and allowed the soft sounds of his roommates’ breathing lull him to a decent night’s sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw! I always knew Adam was sensitive, but the poor guy's also a worrier? At least he had family around to cheer him up!  
> Hope everyone's weekends are lovely!


	12. The Return Of The Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are looking forward to taking Joe home. Let’s hope they have a smooth, uneventful time of it.

Morning couldn’t come around fast enough for Candy. A Candy who’d only managed to keep his eyes closed and sleep in short starts and stops until such time that the sun cracked above the horizon. Once it’s light had started trickling in through the well curtained window it had been a decisive game over though and he found himself laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Waiting for the local songbirds to wake up and keep him company.  
Pleasantly surprised when the sweet trill of one such creature started up right outside the windowsill. After only a few minutes of waiting too. 

So with the sound of bird calls and the occasional soft snore of his roommates for company, Candy hunkered down to wait for the official start of the day.  
Which, it turned out, wasn’t quite so far away as he’d thought. What with Adam waking at an ungodly hour, stretching some and sighing when several pops sounded from somewhere in his back, and asked Candy if eggs and ham would please.

“Sure, but what about Hoss?”

“He’d be happy with anything,” Adam informed before pulling on his boots, donning his hat, and braving the early morning to order them some more room service. 

 

~

 

Decidedly delicious breakfast done with, the three checked out of the hotel and retrieved Hoss’s team and wagon from the livery. Paying a few days advance for them keeping Joe’s team and the other wagon until they could make it back into town for them. 

While Adam conducted business with the livery owner, Hoss oversaw the pulling around and hitching of the wagon, while Candy found himself standing just inside the barn, near the door, switching between watching one then the other of them. Not sure whether he ought to lend a hand to either. 

“Psst,” Candy heard from the shadows off to one side. Also just inside and near enough the exit.

“Huh?” He asked of what looked like a pint sized imp lurking in the shadows. Which scootched closer to the door when the ranchero in red stayed where he was. 

“It _is_ you, i’n’t it?”

“Uh, come again?” Candy asked. Pretty sure he could make out a little human face with a button nose and no fewer than two missing front teeth, staring at him from not so far off. 

“ _You’re_ the mister who just about got hisself run over by that horse yesterday, i’n’t ya?”

Candy blinked, shocked to be asked such a thing by such a... scamp. Maybe news traveled faster in town than he’d thought. 

“Yep. It’s you. You got a red shirt an’ e’rything,” the child informed him. Certainty in every syllable. 

“How’d you hear about-“

“What about the other mister? The one threw hisself in front o’ the horse? He dead, or just real hurt?”

Somehow, that it was a harmless child asking him those questions did nothing to stem the horror Candy felt at hearing them voiced so bluntly.  
“He-Uh, he’s definitely not...” The last word stayed unspoken. Stuck somewhere deep in his throat.

“Yer _real_ worried, mister. Is it on account o’ you love the other mister and you don’ want ‘im to die?”

“Joe ain’t gonna...” Again the word stayed tamped down. Refusing to be used in the same sentence as his best friend’s name. 

“Don’ worry; he loves you too. ‘R else he wouldn’t’a done what he done.” Again said with the sort of self assuredness found only in the speech of small children.  
And folks trying to sell snake oil. 

“You got someplace you're s’posed to be?” Candy asked. Starting to wonder about the unattended nature of the rascal. 

“Shh! Don’t tell no one ya saw me,” the child instructed. Glancing over to where Adam and the livery owner were wrapping up. 

“Well, seein’ as I never really _seen_ ya, don’t figure I could tell anyone I had,” Candy said. Amused when the little one began backing along the wall, growing more and more a part of the shadows until the tyke about disappeared. 

“Thanks, mister. You’re alright.” 

And once again, Candy was standing alone by the barn door. Just in time for Adam to clap him on one shoulder and direct him for the nearly hitched wagon and away from the strange, clandestine encounter he’d just had. 

If Candy noticed a small basket of carrots and apples with a few sugar cubes mixed in bouncing away from the livery, whoever it was spiriting it away completely hidden behind a low fence, he didn’t say anything about it. Just smirked to himself until he remembered what it was the rest of the day had in store for them. 

 

~

 

Their next stop was the mercantile. Where, sweet folks that they were, Jody and Amos had looked genuinely worried when Adam’d apprised them of the situation; the father and daughter team glancing to Hoss and Candy for confirmation before offering their condolences and support. And blankets. 

When Adam’d gone on to explain that they would be taking Joe home in the back of the wagon, after filling it with their grain seed shipment, the mercantile folk had insisted they further cushion things with blankets that Jody and Amos had gone on to assure the boys could just plain borrow and ‘return when they was done with ‘em.’

The ranch folks took them up on the offer with much gratefulness and more than one thanking, which they repeated when Jody helped with loading even though there _were_ three of them. 

They rolled off soon as Jody, acting as Joe’s body double, confirmed the nest of manmade support would suffice and hopped off wishing them the best of luck. 

 

~

 

Within minutes, the three of them came to a stop outside the door that read, Rosebaum M.D. and, with a bracing breath, walked in hoping nothing negative was waiting for them. Anxious in spite of the knowledge that the doc would have sent for them if anything... ‘serious’ had transpired. 

Candy almost chuckled when his eyes adjusted to the dimness and he registered the image of Joe stretched out on a cot, _asleep_ and looking comfy. He couldn’t hold back a small smile when the man currently out of his green jacket snuffled. To which all three of his visitors breathed a sigh of relief.  
Joe was alive, sleeping like a babe, and going to be fine. 

The sound of a footstep accompanied by the hiss of fabric against slatted wood drew their attention and Candy realized that the doctor who had just stood from her chair and was then coming around her desk had been sitting there, likely **watching** them, since they’d driven up.  
“He’s just had some Laudanum and should be asleep for a while.” Said in place of your standard greeting. “It will help with the discomfort of travel,” she explained. Before they could ask why she’d put him to sleep if they were going to need him to get in the back of their wagon in order to get him home.  
“I’d keep in mind that he’ll experience headaches for days if not weeks, and I don’t want anyone shocked if he continues to be forgetful for a time,” the doc explained as she gave her patient one last looking over. Finishing with a hand to his forehead to check for temperature.  
“Given bedrest and good food, I see no reason he shouldn’t make a full recovery.”

“Well, alright then,” Adam started. “You have our thanks and gratitude, Doctor. For all your help and your professional expertise,” he said. Looking like he wasn’t sure whether Doc Rosebaum wouldn’t like a handshake.

“I thank you, but I am only grateful that your brother was not in more serious trouble. I wish him and your family a speedy recovery,” she ended. Offering up one hand. Which Adam took in a shake with a relieved way about him.  
“I’ll have my husband come and help,” she said with a quick motion indicating where Joe was sleeping. 

“Much obliged, ma’am,” said Hoss with an incline of his head. 

The doc shot them a tiny smile before walking through to a back room, presumably to find the man who was about to lend them a hand moving a snoozing, full grown —albeit, rather small compared to the rest of his family— rancher into their wagon bed without causing the poor guy any further injury.  
Good thing the dock had a stretcher. 

 

~

 

So that’s how they’d picked up and packed Joe for the trip home. Cocooned in the relative comfort of a shipment of grain seed and a collection of mismatched blankets. Hoss in the driver’s seat, driving his own personal team, and Adam and Candy sitting around their injured passenger. Doing their best to pretend they were sitting so close because that was the only comfy place in the wagon and not because they were just plain worried. 

“So... what happened, again?” Asked the guy who’d woken maybe halfway back to the ranch. Pawing at the stark white bandage around his head until Adam told him it was his friend; there mostly to keep his stitches clean on the trip.

“Well, it’s like Hoss told you:” Adam started. “You slipped down the steps carrying a bag of grain seed, hit your head, and landed in horse droppings. Everyone in town was there; you can ask them when you’re allowed back.” Candy watched Joe scrutinize his oldest brother’s face. _Looking_ for the fib since he hadn’t heard it.  
Man, Adam was a good liar. 

“Candy, is it just me or does this story change with each telling?” Joe asked with a scrutinizing look still leveled Adam’s way. 

“Oh, I don’ know, Joe. It all happened s’fast, _I_ barely knew what happened till the dust settled. But, the entire town _was_ there. That part’s the Lord’s truth.” Candy drew a cross over his heart to signify his sincerity, thinking the while that it was a good thing he knew how to avoid the truth without lying. ‘Cause he was a terrible liar. Kinda like Joe himself. But he’d agreed to keep up the charade of misdirections until such time as Joe remembered the truth on his own.  
Didn’t wanna worry him with a story fraught with danger and intrigue if the guy couldn’t remember whether he’d eaten breakfast. 

“Uh-huh,” Joe said, his quick glance around more disbelieving now than scrutinizing. “So, lemme get this straight. I slipped on some stairs, even though there wasn’t any puddle?” His back seat company nodded. “Because I was carrying a big bucket- or, if Hoss’s story’s the accurate one, _bag_ of seed grain, and couldn’t see where I was goin’?” More nods. “Even though I’ve taken those stairs, arms piled to reach the sky, a hundred times in my life and never missed a one before today?” Two heads bobbed, but Candy took it upon himself to speak up. 

“Uh, _yesterday’s_ when it happened, Joe. And we’re all just glad you’re okay.”

“Truer words never spoken,” Hoss confirmed from the driver’s seat. Flicking the reigns to get his team straightened out. 

“Ha!” Said Joe, no doubt **sure** he’d caught them in a lie this time.

“Doc Rosebaum wanted to keep you for ‘observation’. Overnight.” Again from the big brother in the front. 

“So we all stayed the night and finished loading in the morning. Hence the relative early hour of our return,” again said by the best liar among them. Adam that time not needing to draw on his enviable gift. On account of that actually being what happened.

“Wait. When did this happen then?” Joe asked, pointing at his head. 

Candy glanced at Adam, successfully fending off a creeping sense of worry after the reassuring head tilt it got him.  
Doc hadn’t been exaggerating about the forgetfulness. 

“Oh, about this time yesterday,” Adam said, as if the three of them hadn’t spent the majority of the intervening time sick with worry. Even Hoss, the one out of them with the strongest stomach, had barely been able to eat. 

“Uh-huh. A-and I slept all day, all night, _and_ all morning?” Joe asked, counting off on the fingers of one hand. Looking mildly surprised when he realized he wasn’t wearing his gloves. 

“More or less. Dr. Rosebaum gave you laudanum, and a few stitches,” Adam said with a shrug. As if those were the sorts of things that often happened on a supply trip to town. 

“A-and all this because I _slipped_ on a few steps?” Came the incredulous inquiry. 

“You _were_ carrying a cumbersome crate,” Adam admonished. 

“Huh. And why don’t I remember any of this?” Joe asked. Worryingly seeming not to notice the discrepancy that time. 

“Well, like Adam said: You bonked yer noggin’ pretty good back there, Joe,” Candy offered. Disappointed when his friend’s name almost caught somewhere in his throat. Coming out with a hint of a croak.

Ears perking, Joe looked straight at him with question evident in the set of his brows. 

“Trail dust,” Candy said with an off handed spit off the wagon’s side. Glad when Joe made a satisfied expression and went back to asking why it was they were sitting in the back of the wagon this fine day.

 

~

 

To Candy’s relief, Joe couldn’t keep his eyes open much longer and had ended up napping until the main house came into sight. Leaving plenty of time for the other two in the cart to sit and stare blankly at the passing scenery and generally wish non of this was actually happening. 

Joe was going to be fine. Candy was pretty sure every one of them was thinking exactly that. He only wondered whether it was circling around and around in their heads the way it was for him. A promise he _needed_ to believe in and was definitely holding the universe to. 

 

~

 

Soon as they pulled up in front of the main house and the wagon stopped swaying, Ben Cartwright was there. Head and shoulders poking over the side closest where he’d been standing on the porch, and eyes going wide with equal parts appall and relief. 

“Joseph?”

“Hi, Pa,” Joe said with a smile Candy could tell he’d mustered specifically for his worried father, even as he struggled to help his brother and his best friend get his feet under him. Then help him navigate the short though perilous distance to the rear of the cart. 

Once there, Adam hopped down while Candy helped Joe to sit with his legs dangling over the wagon’s rear edge, where the eldest Cartwright brother got ahold of the youngest and all but hefted him to a stand. 

Ben was by his son’s the moment Joe’s boots hit dirt. “Joseph? Are you- How are you feeling, son?”

At the father’s suddenly _extra_ worried tone, Candy studied what of Joe’s face he could see from his vantage up on the tail of the wagon. It looked like Joe had gone several shades paler. Enough so to rival the bandage around his head. 

“Uh, you might wanna step back,” the worrying words Joe managed to his pa, who, at the sight and sound of his youngest doubling over and heaving the contents of his stomach, appeared to be caught in the same sharp pang of helplessness Candy found himself fighting. Especially with it looking like Joe only avoided collapsing because Adam hadn’t let go of him through the entire ordeal. 

At the commotion, Hoss hurried down from the driver’s seat and around the wagon to stand with his anxious family. Stepping in as Joe finished with his unfortunate deposit to pick the ailing guy up into his arms and carry him inside the house. All with the deliberation and care of motion you might expect reserved for handling either the exceedingly young or those who were fortunate enough to have reached an advanced age. 

To a Candy who hadn’t yet climbed off the back of the wagon, feeling rooted to the spot for the second time in two days, the most worrying thing about watching his best friend being swept away, was that Joe didn’t put up a fuss.  
No demands to ‘put me down’ and nothing about being old enough to walk himself to bed.  
Nothing but a pair of eyes shut tight against a world that seemed out to get him and a series of small, unintentional sounds of pain. 

Feeling as though he might lose his own breakfast, Candy stumbled off the end of the wagon bed and did his best to keep his feet as he hit dirt and swallowed hard. Not interested in adding to the puddle of vomit quickly being soaked up by the thirsty ground by the porch. 

And here they’d all been thinking getting home would be a relief, Candy thought with a defeated shake of his head. At least glad that his stomach was settling.  
A few deep breaths doing wonders to clear his head, Candy took a last glance at the rig, complete with a pair of hitched horses and a load of supplies, and made for the front door. Aware that _some_ one would notice and do something about it eventually. 

Candy hung his hat soon as he walked through the door, then moved to join an Adam who was occupying himself with staring at the middle distance, standing just this side of the living room. 

“Joe?” Candy asked, knowing it was likely the only syllable on either of their minds. 

“They’re getting him settled in,” Adam said with a nod indicating the guest room door. “Hop Sing and Pa.”

“Hoss?” Candy asked. Curious how the move had gone but staying where he was out of respect for the bonds of family.  
A family which Adam had only yesterday informed him he was now part of. A concept he hadn’t had time to even _begin_ to wrap his head around. 

“He was there for the injury assessment. At the doctor’s. He’s explaining it all to them. So they don’t come across any... worrying surprises,” Adam said. Hands on his hips and head bowed in what appeared to be a full body expression of deep frustration. 

“Mm,” Candy hummed. “Uh, about out there,” he started. Indicating the front of the house. “Why- Is that- Were we expecting something like that?” Candy asked. Lips pursed as he tried not to press for a speedy response. 

“It’s the knock to the head. As well as the laudanum. Either can make you nauseous. Both together?” Adam informed with a shoulder hitching sigh. 

“Is it gonna stay like that?”

Adam readjusted his stance before answering. “It shouldn’t come to that, now that he’s in bed. And **staying** there.” The last few words accompanied by a wry tilt to one eyebrow and a slight softening of black clad shoulders. 

“He’s not gonna like that,” Candy commented. Fully aware he was pointing out the obvious. 

“Good thing he’s going to be doing a **lot** of sleeping then,” said Adam, looking like the conversation just might have been agreeing with him. If that quirk at the corners of his mouth were any indication. 

“We should be so lucky,” Candy said. Managing a smirk as he did. 

Both straightened and pointed their eyes front when a distracted Hoss exited the guest room. Closing the door with a soft, offhanded motion as he did. 

“How is he?” Adam asked. Words coming out quieter than Candy’d ever heard the man speak. 

Hoss started with a big sigh, moving to sit in an armchair before answering. “That, uh- The ride back took a lot outta him. He’s confused as ever, and his head hurts, but Pa an’ Hop Sing got him in bed and he’s resting now,” he said. Mostly looking at his own hands or the floor under the coffee table.  
“Only needed to, uh, ‘upchuck’ the once,” he added, after a short pause. 

“That’s fortunate,” Adam said. Perhaps reflexively, Candy thought when he glanced over and saw the tight line of the eldest brother’s mouth. 

“I s’pose,” Hoss agreed. Heart not in it. Mind occupied elsewhere. 

Candy stood there, watching the two men who’s moods had done nothing but sour since breakfast and doubly so since arriving back at the house. Torn between following suit, or somehow pulling himself up by his proverbial bootstraps and mustering some comforting words.  
He was saved from making such a decision by the slight creak of the door behind him reopening and two caretakers walking out into the living space. Joining the sad excuse for a party with similarly low spirits. 

“Joseph’s doing fine,” started the three times father. Grim expression belying the encouraging statement. “I got your message, Adam. Thank you for sending advanced word,” Ben said with a head tip in his eldest’s direction. 

“‘Course, Pa,”

“We wouldn’t leave you in the dark,” Hoss and Adam assured. Respectively. 

“I just- I can’t wrap my head around something like that happening in town,” Ben went on. Rightfully vexed. Glancing at Hop Sing to his side as the chef gave the group a silent nod and took off in the direction of the kitchen.  
“How did it happen again?” Ben asked. Eyes flitting between the three still standing and sitting about the living space. Coming to rest on Candy, to the ranchero’s discomfort. 

“Uh, well, I don’t rightly **know** what _exactly_ -“

“Candy was nearly run over by someone on a horse,” Adam supplied. Drawing those beseeching, authoritative eyes from the poor, intimidated saddle tramp. “From what I heard, and saw, it seemed an intentional attack and that Joe saw it coming before anyone else. Got there in the nick of time,” Adam finished, putting a hand on Candy’s shoulder, in a gesture of both sympathy and support. 

In a blink, Ben’s eyes were back on Candy, a look hiding around the edges that Candy lacked the personal experience dealing with the man to decipher. “That would explain why he was asking whether you were okay.”

“Asked that at the doctor’s too. More’n once,” Hoss corroborated. Slumping back in the armchair and looking like he had no intention of moving any time soon. 

No one spoke for a beat. Naturally leaving space for thoughts to organize themselves and for recent events to process.  
Before any more talking took place though, Hop Sing rejoined the group, laden with a tray of what appeared to be tea for one. 

“Tea for Little Joe stomach. Drink at least one cup. You give him,” he insisted. Pushing the tray into Candy’s unprepared arms. “No leave till Hop Sing say so.”

So nodding assent, Candy allowed himself to be shoved through the door. Entertained by the firm manner in which it was shut behind him.

Concentrating on not dropping anything off the tray, the ranch hand who’d never gone to finishing school walked across to the side table by the bed and set it down. Nary a drop spilled. 

“The world quit spinnin’ yet?” Candy asked in a quiet yet playful voice. 

“I _hope_ not,” Joe replied. More exhaustion mixed in than Candy felt comfortable hearing. 

Pretending his friend’s present state wasn’t worrying him, Candy poured out a fancy little cup of tea. Pleasantly surprised when a stray drop landed on the back of one hand and turned out to be barely over warm.  
Hop Sing was a genius.  
“Oh, poor choice of words then. Has the _room_ stopped spinnin’?” Candy amended. Comforted that Joe was at least up to being a little contrary. 

The guy in the bed cracked one eye open and left it that way. “More ‘r less.”

“Mm. Well that’s half of it. Hop Sing said this’d take care of the rest,” Candy said, brandishing the not hot cup of tea within easy reach of his friend’s good hand. 

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Oh, yes you are,” Candy informed. Glad when it got Joe’s other eye open. “‘Cause if’n ya don’t, Hop Sing’ll have my ears.”

Joe managed a scoff. “Fine. If it’ll save your precious ears.” 

Candy handed over the cup and hovered until it was drained and back in his hands and set safely on the tray. Not sure what sad fate would befall him if he returned the delicate thing shattered. 

“Huh. That _is_ better,” Joe admitted. All of three seconds before his eyes fluttered, shuttered, and stayed that way. 

Wisely, Candy did exactly as the demanding Hop Sing had told him to and didn’t leave Joe’s company. Instead taking the seat not far from the bed and making himself comfortable. Or, as comfortable as he could get himself sitting in a room with the guy who’d taken a horse to the... entire body for him. 

As that cold, hard reality hit him anew, Candy found himself batting back against an unexpected swell of... emotions. Ones he’d been fighting against, bargaining with, and attempting to ignore ever since he’d popped out of the dirt on that main road through town and seen Joe laying where _he’d_ been standing only a moment before. Where _Candy’d_ been meant to take what was most certainly some fool’s attempt at his life.  
Where Joe’d nearly-

Nope. Not thinking about _that_ again, Candy refocused his eyes on the Joe before him. The Joe who Adam, Hoss, and he had picked up from the doctor’s office and brought home safe and mostly sound and who’d fallen asleep right before his eyes. Eyes that themselves were beginning to droop. One’s that Candy couldn’t find a good reason to keep open anyway.

So, watching his friend sleep, he simply slouched lower and gave a yawn. Closing his eyes to the sound of his roommate snuffling through some pleasant dream. Hoping that any he might have would similarly also be free of... hell horses.  
Maybe something, he thought with a smile, to do with that cozy place he and Joe’d had that picnic. The little lake with the ducklings. Back before everything had gone to-  
Yeah. Something nice like that. 

And so, as the sun rolled its way around towards evening and then night, the room had not one, but two exhausted, sleeping guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, poor Candy barely got a wink of shut eye the night before, so he passed right out in the chair. Can anyone say ‘slumber party’?   
>  But seriously, it’s good everyone got home safe and sound. And that Hop Sing knows his way around a medicine cabinet!


	13. The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tender moment between Candy and his injured knight in shining armor.   
>  Or: Joe has a bad dream and Candy’s there to offer some comfort.

“Candy!” 

It was to his name being called, _just_ as it had in the middle of a dusty street on a clear day in town, that Candy woke with a start which jolted him to his feet.  
He was over to the bed from his chair in a blink and had the bedside candle lit before Joe could register he was there.  
They both blinked in the light of the little flame, then Candy felt something hard bump his chest. Glancing down, he found a splinted hand thumped against him and grabbed it to make sure it wouldn’t make the mistake of banging into anything sturdier. Like the bed frame. 

“Joe, I’m here.” Spoken clearly even though his mouth wasn’t yet fully awake and felt like it could use a good drink. 

“They lied, Candy,” Joe said, blinking again as if the candle was too bright for the middle of the night darkness of his room. 

Without letting go of the splinted hand, Candy scooted the candleholder to the far side of the little table and asked, “Who lied? ‘Bout what?”

“Hoss ‘n’ Adam. They didn’t mention the horse. Someone wanted to **hurt** you,” Joe informed, squirming around under his covers and definitely sounding as if he wasn’t fully awake. “Good thing...” Candy watched Joe pause, searching for something which must’ve stayed out of reach, because the guy closed his eyes and sighed in a defeated fashion. 

“It’s alright now, Joe. I’m here, we’re home, everyone’s gonna be just fine,” Candy reassured. Figuring the southpaw in he bed couldn’t have gone back to sleep that suddenly. 

Yep. Both eyes cracked open and the uninjured hand moved to rub at them.  
“Feels like I got hit by a horse.” The soft noise of pain at the end really sold it and Candy was disheartened in the knowledge that his friend wasn’t up for making tasteless jokes at the moment. He was just plain hurting. 

“You want a pinch of laudanum? Take the edge off?” Candy asked. Surprised when Joe’s eyes went wide.

“Laudanum?!” Hoping the volume didn’t wake anyone, Candy nodded. “Pa doesn’t keep _laudanum_ in the house; stuff’ll kill a full grown hellephant.” 

Trying not to smile at the mispronunciation, Candy pulled the dark bottle out from the recesses of the side table drawer, where he’d somehow figured it must be kept, now fully understanding the Doctor’s serious tone every time she’d mentioned it by name.  
“Well, ain’t no _hellephants_ here. Sorta sounds like a rule for a house full’a youngsters anyhow. Don’t ya think, Little Joe?”

“Don’t call me that,” demanded the bedridden rancher who must’ve finally found a reason to take back his busted up paw. Laying it across his middle in a huffy manner. 

“Don’t have to tell **me** twice,” Candy said, removing the cork and pulling out the accompanying spoon.

Joe rubbed at his face again and groaned this time. “Feels like I got run over by a horse. A _mean_ one.”

That he hadn’t said the _exact_ same thing twice comforted Candy as he portioned out the prescribed dose of the purportedly deadly medicine, recorked the bottle and leaned over the bed to offer it up.  
“Say ‘ah’.”

“Why should I?”

“It’ll make your head stop hurtin’?”

“...’Ah’ then.” 

“Here it comes. And don’t spit it at me if the taste doesn’t please.”

“It doesn’t,” Joe said, following a swallow and cringe. Then his face grew quizzical and he directed his eyes downward. “Why’s my arm in a box?”

Candy gave the splint and wrapping a look and figured he could see the resemblance.  
“‘Cause you got hit by a **mean** horse.”

Squinting in a way that seemed to say, ‘that makes sense,’ Joe squirmed again, found a comfy place, and closed his eyes.  
“I’m glad he didn’t get you, Candy.”

“Thanks, Joe. Guess I owe _you_ one now.” 

The only reply forthcoming being the soft snoring of a well deserved, laudanum induced sleep, Candy blew out the candle and trundled his way back over to the chair he’d decided to call bed for the night. Not regretting the decision when he woke up the next morning with a crick in his neck and an unhappy Hop Sing pushing him out the room. 

“I clean stitches. You wash up before bleakfast. Smell bad,” the longest time family friend said. Pinching his own nose to drive the point home. Then he closed the door in Candy’s bemused face. Effectively sending the cow punch on his way. 

“You’d smell bad too if you didn’t have chance to change for nigh on three days,” he mumbled to himself as he walked out the front door and wound his way to his quarters and a good freshening up.  
Hoping Hop Sing was gentler with someone he just might’ve viewed like a son than he was with the saddle tramp that was suddenly spending a lot of time near his kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You better bet Hop Sing treats his family well! Haha!   
>  Good job, Candy! Helped out Joe all on your own and in the middle of the night no less!
> 
> Anyone think this chapter felt a little shorter than most the others? I have a feeling the next couple will be shorter as well, but please bear with me; they are begging to be that way.   
>  And no worries, the story’s not winding down and it’s not over yet!


	14. The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe’s feeling just a little under one hundred percent this fine morning. Thankfully he has folks around who’re happy to make things better!

Joe pried his eyes open, feeling as if he’d just woken from a long, somehow _tiring_ , sleep. Also feeling something wet dabbing at his head and... Wait. Why was Hop Sing standing bent over him? And why was he waking up in the guest bedroom? And why did everything **hurt**?

“No move. Cleaning stitches.” 

“Stitches?!”

“Shh. Hurt Hop Sing ears.”

“Oh. Sorry. Good morning?” Joe offered. Hoping it didn’t annoy his second paternal figure further. 

“Not for you.” Huh. Unable to decide whether that was meant to be taken humorously, Joe cocked a brow and moved on to investigating the reason for one of his arms feeling heavier than the other. 

In the light streaming in through the room’s big, lightly curtained window, it appeared that his right arm, from the place where his fingers met his hand to halfway on down to his elbow, had been wrapped, sandwiched between no fewer than two planks of wood, then wrapped again.  
A more bizarre sight he’d rarely seen. 

“You hurt arm again. You wear Hop Sing sling again. This time for _long_ time. Doctor said so, Little Joe Pa say so, Hop Sing say so,” followed by quick sentences out of which Joe only recognized several Mandarin words and key phrases he’d grown up hearing around the house. 

“Yes, Sir,” Joe appeased as his nurse finished what he was doing and stepped back. Attempting to hide a rust splotched, otherwise clean rag from sight as he picked up the bowl of clean water he must’ve been using for his visit as well.  
So there’d been some blood on his head? That’d explain the stitches. Or the other way around maybe? Huh. 

“Breakfast coming soon. You eat in bed. Doctor said so, Little Joe Pa-“

“Alright, Hop Sing, I get the idea. Thanks for... everything,” he said. Not all that sure what ‘everything’ was. 

Joe’s number one cook smiled before exiting the guest room, leaving the door open just a crack. Probably so he could hear if Joe tried to get out of bed, which he strangely didn’t feel all that tempted to do. Seeing as everything hurt. To varying degrees.  
His arm, he could tell, would be mad at him if he tried to do anything with it; there were a few ribs gnawing at him about the unpleasant time they were having, and his stomach was both empty as a pocket yet screaming that he better not try any funny business with it. Like eating. 

Yeah. Hop Sing had definitely meant it when he said, ‘Not for you.’ 

 

~

 

Breakfast was... interesting. Even including the bit where he was promised his morning would be ‘less not good’ if he swallowed a spoonful of bitter _laudanum_ , of all things, before getting started. 

Joe hadn’t had the arguable pleasure of eating off a tray in the comfort of a bed he wasn’t allowed to so much as _think_ of rolling out of in quite some time. And he’d probably been sick that time as well, if he was remembering right. Which, for some reason, he wasn’t all that confident in at the moment. 

He sat there mixing around his ‘get well soup’ and marveling at how few shreds of chicken looking flesh there were floating right below the surface and, for some reason he also couldn’t figure, he found himself wishing there was onion in the broth. 

After sucking down enough that it looked like he’d at least _touched_ it, Joe put the spoon down and wished he felt up to moving the tray to its rightful rejection place atop the side table. 

Alas, his stomach was threatening rebellion and he was starting to understand why the food was as bland and empty as it was.  
Good ol’ Hop Sing thought of everything. In which case, he’d understand if Joe left the rest of his serving right next to himself on the bed and just... closed his eyes long enough to get his stormy insides to see reason.

Yeah, a good few minutes just laying propped there at a passable sort of ‘don’t worry, you won’t choke to death’ angle and he’d be right as the mail. Except, the comfort of the darkness behind his eyelids made it difficult to think why exactly it might be he’d want to open his eyes back up again. Especially when it felt like the blanket was rearranging itself in such a comforting way; slithering back up over his previously exposed arms and somehow tucking itself over his shoulders _just_ so. 

Suddenly the perfect temperature, there was no chance Joe’s peepers were doing anything but keeping out the muted sunshine that had assaulted him the short time he’d been up.  
In fact, Joe was pretty sure he was already asleep. Considering how his pillows were arranging themselves to allow a far better posture for snoozing; the one under his ever so slightly aching arm going so far as to fluff itself to the consistency of a snow filled, pouffy cloud.

It _had_ to be a dream. After all, pillows didn’t move on their own. And they definitely didn’t press warm kisses full of fatherly love to full grown foreheads. 

Yeah, Joe thought with a contented sigh. **Definitely** some sort of crazy, comfy dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww! Me thinks Ben tucked Joe in for his nap! That’s so thoughtful! Probably help the poor guy sleep tight as well!


	15. The Evening

Dinner was not _quite_ as somber an affair as had been lunch, nor, thankfully, breakfast.  
There was a dark cloud of something hard to put one’s finger on, but it had been slowly lifting as the day had worn on. Maybe because Joe had shown signs of **not** dying and in fact eaten some at both meal times. However minimally. 

Hop Sing hadn’t been happy but Ben had insisted that at least the boy had eaten _something_. Which had unexpectedly been enough to calm the chef for the present.  
‘Surprisingly’ to Candy anyway. Adam and Hoss had been unmoved by the earnest exchange between the two most mature members of the household when Ben had left Joe’s room with most of a bowl of soup on a bed tray. 

Must’ve been pretty normal then. Who’d’a thunk Hop Sing _could_ be talked down from a ‘someone wasted food’ rage?

Then something similar had happened around lunch time, and then someone had wised up and offered the man in the convalescence room a considerably smaller helping. It seemed a victory when the bowl came back just about empty.  
Might’ve contributed to the improved mood around the table. Which culminated in a happy, full Hoss declaring that he was in the mood for some checkers and that he bet Joe was too. 

So the man with the larger than life body took the board and pieces from their resting place in the living room and shut the door behind him. Leaving the others chortling as they went about beginning their evening relaxations. 

 

~

 

Only just a short half hour after dinner’d been concluded, Candy watched as Hoss stepped out of the guest room currently being used as a recovery room; a look of disbelief on the big man’s face.  
Realizing there was something more mixed in there, Candy stood from where he’d been lounging across the seat and one arm of a living room armchair and approached the middle Cartwright brother.  
“Somethin’ wrong, Hoss?“

“I, uh- I just beat Joe at checkers,” came the stunned reply. 

“Well, that’s known to happen now and-“

“ _Twice_ ,” Hoss said. Expression not improving. 

Candy considered that and its myriad implications for a moment before remembering it was a family member of the infirmed he was speaking with.  
With that in mind, he gave a soft smile and moved to put an encouraging hand on the poor guy’s shoulder. Missing by a few inches when he forgot just how tall Hoss was and settling for a hand on the behemoth’s upper arm.  
“You remember what Doc Rosebaum said?”

“Huh?” Said Hoss, likely having to pull himself away from the distracting memories he’d just accrued inside Joe’s interim room. “Which part?”

“The part where it might take him a while to get back to one hundred percent again?”

“Oh, yeah. I ‘member that part,” Hoss informed. “I just... never thought that might include checkers.” Said with a frown as he gave his head a vexed scratch. 

“Well, checkers _is_ a game of strategy and skill, right?” Candy asked, a relatively serious look on his face.

“Yep, I recon so.”

“And laudanum would put a full grown hellephant to sleep, right?” 

“You give it enough,” Hoss confirmed with a quirk to his brow. 

“Can’t expect a body to be very skillful nor strategic while they’re takin’ in a steady helping of somethin’ that powerful, can we now?” Candy said, a little lilt at the end to lighten the argument. 

“Huh. You got yerself a good point there. Poor feller _did_ look two seconds from sleepin’ through most of it,” Hoss said. Looking like he’d only just now realized he might have been playing someone who wasn’t fully awake. 

Wow, Candy thought, holding in a chuckle as he remembered something he’d had joked at him not so long back. On a beautiful day, after a picnic by a little lake, a gaggle of ducklings quaking by the water’s edge.  
Joe’d been right: Hoss _could_ beat him. So long as they played while Joe was sleeping!

Wiping any undue mirth from his face, Candy refocused on the marginally less worried form before him and offered an additional pat to the upper arm.  
“I wouldn’t worry too much ‘bout it. Soon as he gets over the bump to the noggin and don’t need none of that hellephant tranquilizer any more, he’ll be back to beaten the pants off ya. And you’ll be complainin’ ‘bout _that_ again instead,” Candy tacked on with an encouraging smile. 

“Oh, I got a feelin’ I ain’t never gonna complain about losin’ no game of checkers to Joe again. Well, aside from to his face a’course,” Hoss amended. 

“Oh, of course,” Candy agreed. Glad Hoss wasn’t planning to treat Joe any different after the whole mess was over and done with.

“Well, uh, sorry if you was plannin’ on a visit yerself. Those games o’ checkers took it outta him. Pretty sure he’s out for the night,” Hoss said, a tint of real apology to it. 

“S’alright, Hoss. He’s _your_ brother. ‘Sides, I just wanted to say g‘night.”

“I recon he’d appreciate it anyhow. Joe’s always loved attention. Prob’ly don’t even need to be awake to know he got some.” 

Then the big guy gave _him_ a pat on the shoulder and a gentle shove towards the door. The combination of which had Candy wincing and stumbling in tandem, then covering up the evidence of both with a smooth, “Night, Hoss.” Which was received with an encouraging incline of a big brother’s head.  
At which, Candy knew he had no _choice_ but to pay his sound asleep special friend a good night visit. Before following Hoss’s example and moseying on off to his own bed for a good night of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries ya'll, next chapter's gonna be a longer one! Meantime, I thought it might be kinda nice to have Candy and Hoss interact for an entire, two person scene!   
>  Hope Hoss felt right and hope ya'll enjoyed!


	16. Coffee, Tea, and Adam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe has a busy day without even leaving the comfort of his convalescing bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title says it all!

The second morning he found himself in the guest bedroom, just finished with lunch and feeling accomplished when he managed putting the mostly empty tray on the side table himself, Joe’s ears perked when he heard a firm knocking at the front door. 

Not long after followed the clomping signifying someone walking to answer the request for entrance.  
Next came some muffled exchange of pleasantries and... Huh. Sounded like someone was headed to _his_ door. But who could possibly be paying him a visit? Unannounced like and in the middle of the day?

A considerably softer knock sounded through the guest room before the person on the other side cleared their throat.  
“Afternoon, Joe. Roy Coffee here, stoppin’ by to say howdy.”

The sheriff? Sure, Roy visited from time to time, but when was the last time he’d done so just to say ‘howdy’?  
Well, either way, Joe wasn’t gonna turn away the offer of company. So, double checking he didn’t appear a complete, bedridden mess, he cleared his own throat and invited the public servant in. 

Then, about the time they’d finished shaking hands and saying their hello’s, Hop Sing barged in and set down a tea tray in place of Joe’s ‘lunch in bed’ one. Roy saying an offhanded thanks to the chef while fluffing the provided chair’s cushion to help in getting comfortable in his seat. 

Soon as Hop Sing shut the door behind himself, Joe turned his full attention to his visitor and offered a welcoming smile.  
“Well, thanks for comin’ out to see me, Coffee, but you really didn’t need to use up your off time to do it. I’d’a blown through town soon enough,” Joe reassured. Eyebrows scrunching at the shake of a grayed head. 

“No worries, Joe. This call’s pullin’ double duty as both a social visit _and_ part of my job,” Roy reassured. Taking a pause from explaining himself to pour out two cups of tea and hand one to a Joe who wasn’t all that interested in drinking it, but who took it anyway.  
“Was wondering if you was in’rested in giving an official statement on the, uh... the ‘incident’ what happened back in town a few days back.”

Pretty sure Coffee was at least _trying_ not to scrutinize him for injuries, the arm being fairly obvious in its splint as it was, Joe avoided squirming and looked the sheriff in the eye.  
“I... I’d love to, Coffee, I really would, but, uh, I don’t even remember the night before it clearly. Uh, yet,” Joe added, feeling his mouth tick down at the edges in a small frown. 

“It’s fine, Joe. Mostly come to see how you was doin’ anyhow,” Coffee said with a reassuring pat to Joe’s knee. Movement slow and careful, as if not sure he should be touching the injured party at all. “Truth be told, I came out to talk to you the evenin’ they got you home,” Roy said, one hand now scratching his own head. 

“Let me guess: Pa didn’t want me getting any visitors?”

“That’s true, but he made an exception for a servant of the law who was just in’erested in seein’ justice served.”

“You mean, you came in _here_ to see me? Was I sleeping?” Joe asked, brow furrowing at the thought. 

“Maybe when I opened the door, but we spoke a brief while.” The Sheriff averted his eyes a second while Joe tried to push aside his rather shocked confusion at the news. “Head wounds are tricky business, I’ve seen my share, so I said my thanks and promised to come by again when you was feelin’ up to it.”

“You and I spoke? Yesterday? A-a few days ago?” Joe corrected. Belatedly remembering what day it was. Roughly. 

“Mmhm. You can ask yer pa ‘n’ brothers ‘bout it, seein’ as they let me in. But yer friend was snoozin’ away, so I don’t figure he’d be much use there.”

“Huh?” Joe asked. Quite puzzled. 

“Candy. Was sittin’ in this here chair. Boy was either _bone_ tired or he’s naturally the deepest sleeper I ever seen,” Roy finished, accompanied by a little shake of his head. 

“Candy was-was sittin’ where you’re sittin’, _sleeping_ , while you and I had a **conversation**?”

“More ‘r’ less,” the sheriff affirmed. “Didn’t take long though I realized you weren’t quite lucid, so I said bye to yer folks and went back into town to take a few more witness statements.” A smile broke up Roy’s somber mood before he continued. “Next day, somebody brought in a feller by the name of Festus for public drunkenness. After that, I got more’n enough people comin’ by, sneerin’ at him and identityin’ him as the perpetrator to please any judge.” A minuscule laugh colored the last of the words and Joe found himself smiling along. 

“So you already know exactly what happened?” Joe asked. Still not in possession of his first account memories of the day, but entertained by the thought of townsfolk _willingly_ visiting the jail just to sneer at a drunk in a cell. 

“Well, as the story goes, Festus overheard a few days ago ‘bout when you an’ Candy’d be back in town. So, still bein’ sore over losin’ that poker game to Candy the week before, the mornin’ y’all were set to come back he moseyed himself over to the saloon, got a little liquid courage in him, got his horse saddled, and waited around for y’all to show up. Then he saw the two of you goin’ to the diner for lunch and just stood his horse till y’all come out.” Coffee took a draft from his china cup, looking like he was doing his best not to be disappointed that it wasn’t coffee, before giving a sigh and continuing.  
“Folks say it was mighty unnervin’; seeing him sit up on that brute fer long as he did. Out in the sun. Sweatin’ and mumblin’ to himself. Makin’ coaches and wagons go ‘round _him_.” The lawman shook his head while his lips gave a sour purse. “I’m surprised someone didn’t report him for public drunkenness _before_... well, you know.”

“Yeah, we know all right,” Joe said, sounding rather terser than he’d meant. After all, wasn’t Roy Coffee’s fault he was laid up worse than any time in recent memory. Nor the sheriff’s fault that Joe _still_ couldn’t remember the ‘incident’ himself. 

The sheriff sighed. “Joe, I’m sorry ‘bout what happened and I wish it hadn’t.” Joe ticked his face up just enough to pass for a nod. Not willing to make the mistake of jostling his head while it wasn’t bothering him too much. “But, you know; what you did? Way I hear it, folks ‘round town seem to think you just might’ve saved your friend’s life.” Joe’s eyes went wide while Roy paused to sip at his drink again. “I heard said that you runnin’ like a man possessed surprised Festus and the horse bad enough that they balked at the last moment. Way it sounds, folks are gonna want to pin a commendation on you for exceptional community service.”

Joe took in all the words that Sheriff Coffee said best he could, but anything after ‘saved your friend’s life’ had a distant, unreal quality to it.

He was pretty sure Roy’d been smiling, but at some point the older man’s face had changed. Probably around the time Joe realized he couldn’t focus on the sheriff’s voice anymore; it turning to more of a mumbled noise than words he could understand. 

Might even have been disconcerting if Joe could concentrate well enough to care. But as it was, he was distracted by a growing feeling of being far away. Almost as if he were dreaming, but in a hard to describe, uncomfortable sort of way.  
The sudden, building banging in his head wasn’t doing him any favors either and he was pretty sure he could _feel_ the stitches the doc had sewn into his scalp. Itching hard enough that Joe felt he now understood why it was a flea bitten dog scratched with such gusto. 

It was sometime around then that Joe noticed a hand close around the wrist of his good arm. The sensation pulled his attention to it and he blinked as he realized Coffee was no longer sitting by his bed. Instead, an additional blink brought his black clad, oldest brother into focus. 

“No scratching. Now say ‘ah’.”

“Uh-“

“That’ll work,” Joe heard, half a moment before having a spoon laden with an unpleasant, bitter liquid popped in his mouth. To which he made a noise of distaste.  
“Now, Joe, I’ll not have you complaining over a little help with pain management. I _saw_ you just now; dissociating well enough that you had the unshakable Sheriff Coffee worried,” Adam said in a chiding, almost impressed tone. 

“I wasn’t- What?“ Joe asked. Pretty sure Adam had thrown at least one made-up word in there. 

“What happened anyway? He seemed to think it might have been something he’d said?” Adam asked, recorking and putting away the brown bottle of unpleasantness. 

“I- I lost track of time-“ Joe started. All honesty. “I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about- _feel_ , was that Candy nearly...” Joe stopped there. Not sure he could end a sentence that contained Candy’s name with the word-

“Died?” Joe looked up at the unperturbed tone. Adam raised an eyebrow in response. “ _You_ narrowly escaped the same, Joe. Don’t let yourself think that’s slipped anyone’s mind.” At the younger Cartwright’s questioning look, the more mature of them continued. “You may have saved your friend, but, in so doing, you put yourself in harm’s way. Now, I’m not saying you didn’t do the exact right thing, but I do ask you to look at it from Candy’s perspective: to him, **you** almost died.”

“But I saw him right after breakfast. Popped in to say mornin’ and that he had chores needed gettin’ to,” Joe said, puzzlement only growing. “He seemed fine. Chipper even.”

“I know he’s put up a brave face, but I believe it’s more for our benefit than for his,” Adam said. Seeming still relatively unperturbed. “It is my opinion, that he be worried so, in part, because he cares the same way for you as you do for him. It’s all in the eyes,” he finished. Pointing, if Joe was reading it right, playfully at his little brother’s face. 

“I don’t- What- what are you saying, Adam?” Joe asked of the man who hadn’t confounded him so since they’d both been considerably less mature. Maybe a few years younger too.  
And who was now sporting a knowing smirk Joe was pretty sure he hadn’t seen no his brother’s face in just as long. 

“I’m saying that the two of you are smitten with each other. You’re sweet on one another. That a saddle tramp from Texas and my brother have ‘intentions’ for each other.” Adam paused to leave room for Joe’s stunned silence before he leaned in closer, like he was about to tell a secret.  
“Candy loves you, you love him, and I think it’s about time the man _heard_ about it.” The statement ended on a serious though gentle note. 

Joe looked his brother in the eye, searching for some shred of hidden disapproval or disappointment. When Adam’s strangely open face revealed neither, Joe swallowed and voiced his own misgivings. “But, if you have it all wrong and-and it turns out...“ Joe sucked in a breath. “What if I... and then, but what if, after that, he hates me?”

“Joseph Cartwright, I have been around the world-“

“ _Halfway_ ‘round the world-“ Joe couldn’t help but correct, even with the feeling of warm water welling right behind his eyes at the mere thought of his best friend _not_ being his best friend ever again. 

“-and I am absolutely serious when I tell you that one man loving another man isn’t all that uncommon.” At that, Adam had Joe’s full attention once more. “Neither is the other loving the first back. After all, these things, in my limited experience, tend to happen to like minded people. So if you feel this way about Candy, it is my advice that you _tell_ him so.”

Joe stared at his brother for a moment. Feeling, and likely looking, almost as if he didn’t recognize the face before him. Long enough that the face started getting a little worried.  
He spoke though before Adam did. “You really mean that?”

Starting with a sigh, Adam shook his head. “Joe, how often do I say things that I _don’t_ mean?”

“Ah. I see your point.”

“Mmhm. So, if this frankly _rightful_ anxiety and worry over your shared near death experience is keeping you up at night-“

“Daytime too-”

“-then I can’t see another way around it. My littlest brother is going to have to act like an adult and own up about his feelings.”

“Own up about my feelings about my best friend _to_ my best friend, no less,” Joe said with a grimace.

“I never claimed it would be easy,” Adam reminded. 

“Yeah, and I never said you never did anything for me,” Joe informed. Amusing his brother ever so slightly. 

“You’re welcome, Little-“

“Don’t you call me that, Adam Cartwright,” Joe warned, reaching next to himself for a spare pillow. 

“Alright,” Adam said with his hands up in a sign of good will. “You’re welcome, _Joe_ ,” Adam corrected with a chuckle. Probably glad the youngest member of the family was once again up to a little horseplay. Or at least, up to _threatening_ it. 

“Yeah, yeah, wise guy,” Joe said. Setting the pillow back purposefully close to hand. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better, even if not by much, and that you've allowed your mind to be expanded, but I am afraid this is where I leave you,” Adam said. Reaching out a hand to pat his brother’s knee before standing from his seat. “Duty calls.”

“If you love Duty so much, maybe you should propose,” Joe suggested. Satisfied when it got Adam to stop in his tracks. 

“I could say the same regarding you and Candy.” 

And Joe said nothing more as his brother chuckled his way out the door _knowing_ he’d gotten the last word and thankfully not sparing a glance back. Otherwise he’d have seen the pink overtaking Joe’s cheeks at the ridiculous, _outlandish_ notion.  
How could he ask his best friend to marry him? There wasn’t a chance in Heaven nor Hell that the man would say yes. 

Nope. Out of the question. Besides, neither of them were the marrying type. Evidenced by the fact that they were always dating, and not often the same lady twice, yet were still two of the least attached bachelors in the territory.  
...On that same note, they had, even with their notoriously capricious natures, somehow managed to continue to be friends- _close_ friends for quite some time now. 

Hm. Maybe Adam was right about _some_ things after all. 

And maybe, just maybe, Joe needed to get around to telling Candy some of those things.  
Sometime. Somehow.


	17. Spittin’ Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Joe has quite a busy time with a surprise visit from Sheriff Coffee, followed by a heart to heart with his oldest brother, Candy manages to have himself quite the day as well.

What Candy’d first taken as some vague form of punishment; being made to do not but menial chores such as cutting firewood out back of the house or making small repairs to tack in the main house’s barn while Rosy oversaw his progress and hummed to the Cartwright family horses, Candy eventually came to realize was actually a sneaky way to keep him within easy walking distance for a visit with his convalescing best friend, Joe. 

For that reason, on the day that Sheriff Coffee had come to pay Joe a visit, found out he still wasn’t quite up to ‘official business’ type company, and subsequently told everyone else in the house the news concerning the jailing of the varmint behind the... ‘incident back in town’, Candy’d just so happened to be there for it. 

He’d also been there when Ben had mentioned to the lunch table, only a little earlier that morn’, that it was about time those poor horses of Joe’s be brought back home from the livery stable, and the wagon with them.  
Didn’t want anyone getting it in their mind that they were abandoning any of that. Good horse flesh —and carts— were hard to come by, after all. 

Candy had jumped at the opportunity, saying he’d be glad to bring everything back safe and sound. For, though he wasn’t excited about leaving the ranch with Joe as out of sorts as he was, he did covet the opportunity to be the one holding the reigns of that wonderful team of Joe’s once again. Even if only for a return trip home.  
He’d need to remember to bring along a few sugar cubes for the pair. Poor things were probably missing their comfy stalls in their homey barn and their dedicated groom who sang to them and-

“I recon I’ll go along too, Pa. Keep ol’ Candy here comp’ny. _And_ outta trouble,” Hoss said, cutting across Candy’s daydreams about spending time with a couple of horses.

“Fine, fine. Just be sure to return those blankets that Amos and Jody so kindly lent us, while you’re there,” Ben reminded, with no indication of an objection. 

“Yessir, got ‘em all folded and waitin’,” Hoss said with a nod. 

“Well, matter settled. Right after lunch then,” Ben said with a nod of his own. 

The arrival of the dependable Sheriff Roy Coffee had coincided with the end of lunch, and had so put a hold on their plans for the rest of the day.  
But when the public servant had said his goodbyes and made to bow out early, Hoss and Candy had had the wonderful idea to accompany Mr. Coffee back to town. 

“Sure, boys, the more the merrier,” all he’d said before adjusting his hat and making for the hitching rail. 

 

~

 

And that was how Candy found himself facing a set of cold metal bars, sneering at a dried out drunk on the other side and wishing he’d never agreed to win all of Festus’s money off him in that ill-fated poker game. 

“Oh my Lord in heaven- Why does nobody in this town believe me? For the last time, I weren’t aimin’ for yer scrawny friend; I was aimin’ for _your_ sorry excuse for a body,” the man who found himself literally caged in the rear room of the town jail insisted with a frustrated roll of the eyes. 

“Festus, it don’t matter who you were aiming for; it matters who you hit, and who you hit, just happens to be **very** important to me.” 

“And me,“ added Hoss as he stepped up to the bars and glowered his most intimidating glower. Causing the smaller man on the inside of the enclosure to pay him even the slightest attention since he’d entered. 

“What **is** it with this town? Some sort of conspiracy goin’ on ‘round here? E’rybody comin’ in here, givin’ me the eye; spittin’ in my direction. What’s so special ‘bout that skinny feller anyway?” The reprobate behind the bars demanded. Switching Between scratching his head and gesticulating wildly. 

Hoss took advantage of the sot’s distraction and snatched a handful of the detainee’s shirt in one larger than life fist. Getting a good bit more than attention that time.  
“You wanna know who that ‘scrawny feller’ is?” 

Candy glanced over at the hard edge to the usually jovial voice, and was taken aback when the behemoth standing next to him barely resembled the gentle giant he knew so well. The entirety of Hoss’s impressive stature taught with an obvious and barely restrained hostility.  
Then he watched as the normally kind eyes in that dark blond head sharpened to something dangerous and Hoss pulled upward until Festus’s shirt seams made angry popping sounds and his boots just about lifted clear off the floor.  
By that point, Candy started wondering whether Hoss coming along hadn’t been a bad idea and whether maybe he ought to go get Sheriff Coffee, but then, the big man leaned in close to the one on the other side of the bars and whispered the hardest, least inviting whisper it had ever been Candy’s misfortune to hear. 

 

“He’s my little brother.“

Then, without warning, Hoss released the shirt from its certain doom, turned on a heel, and lumbered back out to Coffee’s office. Leaving behind two gawking, stunned speechless saddle tramps. One feeling extremely grateful that he hadn’t done anything to get himself on Hoss’s bad side and the other making a slow retreat from the row of bars he’d likely just realized might not protect him from _every_ threat imaginable. 

Blinking his utter surprise away, Candy turned in time to see Festus nearly miss the edge of his jail cot as the shaken man plopped down. Probably to keep from _falling_ down.  
Candy pulled himself up to his full height and made sure he had the guy’s attention before saying, “You’re lucky he was feelin’ generous today.” Then, holding in a sharp smirk at the several shades whiter the unpleasant Festus went, Candy tipped his hat and added, “Till next time, ‘friend’.” He couldn’t help the growl of a warning note accompanying the last word, and at the slight flinch it won him, he found himself feeling just a little bit like he’d accomplished something worthwhile on that trip into town. 

Without another word, he followed Hoss’s example and turned his back on the guy who’d freely admitted to trying to run him over. Ready to rejoin the civilized world once again. 

“Like I was just tellin’ Hoss here,” Roy said, soon as Candy sauntered his way into the office, “I got more notarized and confirmed testimonies concerning this case than I know what to do with. Written _and_ oral. Got some even before we rounded this Festus up and booked ‘im,” the Sheriff ended with a perplexed scratch of the head. 

“Sounds like the townsfolk got their dander up somethin’ fierce over this,” Hoss observed with a ruefully entertained shake of his head. 

“What can I say, boys?” Started the sheriff from where he’d sunk down for a well deserved rest in the seat behind his desk. “Folks don’t like the idea of a violent, habitually drunk, generally unpleasant reprobate bein’ turned loose. Much rather see him behind bars, where he can’t up and run over anyone else’s relations.” The tone with which Coffee said his piece made it plain as day that he was one hundred percent behind the town on this one. Maybe even _proud_ of it for the upstanding, responsible actions so many of the citizens had proven themselves willing to take. 

“Oh, uh, ‘scuse me Sheriff. Didn’t know you had comp’ny,” said a scruffy head as it started backing out the jailhouse door, which no one inside had noticed open. 

“Naw, it’s fine, Gus. What ya here for?” Coffee asked with a ‘won’t be a moment’ look spared for his other two visitors. 

“Heh, howdy,” the guy named Gus greeted Candy and Hoss as he opened the door up proper and removed his hat in an off hand. “Just wanted to let ya know that me and Lucille and Junior’d be more’n happy to lend a hand in the build if’n yer shorthanded.”

Sounding like he might have turned a good natured snort into a cough, Coffee gave the man an appreciative smile and said, “I thank ya kindly, and I’ll let y’all know if’n the extra hands’r needed. Still waitin’ on word from the circuit judge.”

“No problem, Sheriff, we’d be _happy_ to help. Gentlemen,” Gus said with a nod to the room’s other occupants, before bowing out and shutting the door back behind him. 

“Uh, what’s this ‘bout a build and needin’ extra hands for’t? A perplexed Hoss directed at the public servant behind the desk.  
The one who was starting to smirk and vibrate with what looked like barely restrained mirth. 

“You alright, Sheriff? Need some water or-“

“M’fine, Candy, just-“ Roy broke off with a chuckle. “It’s just that there’s a contingent here in town what thinks the judge is gonna pass down a particularly ‘harsh’ sentence along with his verdict. Which, they’ve decided, has no chance of bein’ anything but ‘guilty’, of course.” 

“Of course,” Candy said, a wry tilt to his mouth. 

“Wait, folks think the judge is gonna order a-“

“Yep, Hoss, folks’r linin’ up to offer their not inconsiderable carpenterin’ experience to the build of our very own gallows. For a hangin’ ain’t even been ordered.”

“Yet,” Candy reminded. Voice and expression rather careful. 

“Yeah, ‘not yet’. That’s what’s goin’ through their heads. Regular old bee in the bonnet of every man, woman, and adolescent ever held a hammer an’ nail before,” the Sheriff informed, shaking his head and swallowing another chuckle.  
At which, Candy figured it was at least good the sheriff could appreciate the mortuary stylings of the situation’s humor. 

“You don’t think the judge’ll really do it, do ya, Coffee?” Hoss asked, glancing toward the door that separated the cells from the office. No doubt thinking of the living human brooding on the other side. 

Candy found himself doing the same. Not sure how he felt about the news and what it might mean for the man who’d tried to end his life.  
...And who’d nearly ended Joe’s. 

“Truth be told, Hoss, Candy,” Roy started, giving his lip a quick chew. “I don’t. For Festus’s safety and for the good of the town, I’m just playin’ mediator till the trial. Ain’t _encouragin’_ the notion of braidin’ a fresh rope, but if’n I tell ‘em out right to simmer on down, we might have a situation on our hands. So I’ll let ‘em play out their frustrations and by the time the judge hears the case they’ll be satisfied with whatever justice he sees fit.”

“Well, here’s hopin’,” Candy said, moving to follow when Hoss gave the Sheriff a nod and started for the door. 

“Hey, if I don’t see Joe by the next time y’all come to town, you let me know whether he wants to press charges,” Coffee invited with a semi-serious expression. Not quite over his entertainment at certain circumstances beyond his control. 

“Sure thing, Coffee. We’ll see ya,” said Hoss as he reached the door. 

“Yeah, be seein’ ya, Sheriff,” Candy said with a wave as he and the middle Cartwright brother pushed their way through the door and out onto the boardwalk beyond. Where Candy made sure the door latched before turning to follow Hoss to-

Candy came to an abrupt stop when he turned and found Hoss hadn’t walked more than a few feet from the door, where he was standing strangely still. Body tight and mouth twisted up in a contrite pucker.  
“Hoss?”

“They’re fixin’ to _hang_ ‘im?” Hoss asked, hands moving to his hips as he gave the boardwalk beneath his boots a distracted stare. 

“Well, it’s like the sheriff said: folks got their bonnets up in a twist about it,” Candy reminded. Hoping it might somehow be the right thing to say. 

“Yeah, I reckon it is. You wanna know the sad thing about it?” Hoss asked, glancing Candy’s way and getting himself a nod. “I _want_ the judge to pass that sen’ence. Even though I **know** it’d be the wrong one. A life for a life maybe, but Festus was drunk and didn’t actually end up killin’ anybody.”

“Yeah, I... I feel exactly the same myself,” Candy admitted with a sigh. Feeling almost comforted when Hoss offered him a commiserating grimace. “And I s’pose the town prolly feels that way too. Considerin’.”

“Yeah, considerin’,” Hoss agreed. “There were a whole peck of people gathered ‘round when Adam and me got there with the doc. Figure, if they saw the whole thing, it’d leave a nasty impression,” the big brother reasoned, now staring off into the unbusy street. 

Candy nodded, trying his best to ignore the echoed memory of his best friend yelling his name, as he sprinted himself right into harm’s way in order to shove _him_ to safety.  
Then the hired hand took a breath before offering, “You heard what Sheriff Coffee said: the town’ll settle down, the trial’s gonna be fair, no one’s going to be hanged, and everything’s gonna be just fine.”

“Meanwhile, Litt- _Joe_ can’t even get out of bed. Doesn’t sound ‘fine’ to me,” the big man said. One fisted hand moving to press against his mouth in an unintentional show of frustration. 

“Hoss, Joe’s _gonna_ be fine. Your Pa, Adam, Hop Sing, even the doctor all agree that he’s gonna be fine. If you’re gettin’ low on faith in humanity right about now, I’d put my faith in all of them. They tend to know what they’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Candy said. Giving the biggest shoulder he’d ever felt a firm, encouraging pat. 

With a snort that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, Hoss gave his eyes a rough press with his fingertips and nodded. “Yer right, Candy. I must’a just got caught up in all the...” 

When Hoss petered to a stop and made a noise that sounded like he was clearing his throat, Candy looked to the ground with a nod of his own.  
“Same here,” he said. Feeling when a pair of, once again, decidedly gentle eyes flicked to him. “Day of? Weren’t for you and Adam bein’ near... I don’t know what I’d’a done. Prolly Doc Rosebaum would’ve had two patients ‘stead of just the one. Hysteria, and all that,” Candy finished with a self-deprecating shrug. 

“No, Sir,” Hoss said, voice half insistence, half concern. “Now, I know you were shaken up, but weren’t a one of us in hollerin’ range wasn’t. You’d’a stuck it out, found help, and things’d be just the way they are anyhow: just fine.” 

“...So you admit everything’s ‘just fine’?” Candy asked after a short pause. Feeling a sense of accomplishment when he glanced up into the considerably higher face to find that it was no longer quite so defeated. 

“Why you- You’re just like Joe with yer-yer-“

“Golden wit?” Candy smirked out. Pleased with the rise he’d manufactured. 

Hoss blustered some, chest puffing in time with his pink tinged cheeks at having been tricked into admitting things weren’t quite so bleak as they seemed.  
After a good few seconds of obvious vexation though, the biggest guy around breathed out a great lungful and settled on a sheepish smile. No doubt having accepted Candy’s assessment of the situation as superior to his own. 

Candy found himself cocking an inquisitive brow when the friendly giant’s next move was to step forward and set a hand on his shoulder. He glanced from the mitt to Hoss’s face in silent, unperturbed question.

“I’m glad it’s you, Candy,” Hoss intoned with gentle syllables. Giving the _entire_ shoulder under his hand a little squeeze. 

“Come again?” Candy asked. Unable to make head nor tail of the statement. Nor feel the fingers at the end of that arm anymore. 

“I’m glad it’s you Joe found. Or, maybe it’s the other way ‘round but... I couldn’t imagine anyone better.”

“You mean that?” Candy asked. Fearing his ears might be playing a trick on him. 

“Yep. ‘Sides: If _Adam_ likes you, can't be all bad!” Hoss said with a laugh that came straight from his core. Giving Candy’s shoulder a soft pat before removing his hand from the smaller man altogether.  
Just soft enough to not buckle Candy’s knees. 

“Gee, Hoss, I don’t know what to say,” Candy admitted. Holding back from rubbing at his arm, hoping it wouldn’t carry any lasting damage from the encounter with the big guy’s caring gesture. 

“Well, that’s all right. You’ll say it anyway, soon enough,” Hoss said with a happy twinkle in his eye. Taking his first step off in the direction of the livery and the Ponderosa wagon they’d come into town to retrieve. Along with Joe’s poor equine pulling team. 

“Wait,” Candy said, jogging to catch up with the long strides. “What’ll I say? _When’ll_ I say it?”

“Exactly the right thing, at _just_ the right time,” Hoss informed. Tone bordering on teasing. Not slowing his pace but making room on the boardwalk for the slighter built rancher to walk beside him. Once he caught up. “You’ll know when ya say it,” his only, mysterious words of explanation. 

Candy decided it was a _good_ thing Hoss was in a better mood now and that he might as well just play along and let the guy have his fun. So he walked in bewildered silence and didn’t try too hard to figure out what in tarnation it was his walking buddy was talking about. 

“Mind if we stop by the grocer’s real quick like? Gotta pick me up a bag of peppermints,” Hoss asked as the place came within throwing distance. 

“For Joe?”

The big guy gave a nod. 

“For the checkers games?”

Another nod confirmed it.

“But, uh, Hoss, didn’t _you_ win?” Candy asked, remembering the outcome plain as day.

“Yeah. But he don’t necessarily _remember_ that,” reminded the thoughtful older brother. 

“Or, maybe, that’s just what he _wants_ you to think,” Candy posited. No actual suspicion behind the supposed suspicion. 

Hoss gave a snort. “Tell the truth? Can’t wait till he’s up to his no good tricks again. Joe behavin’? Just ain’t natural,” he finished with a sour scrunch to his face. 

“Ha!” Candy blurted. Suddenly reminded of the last good joke he and Joe had pulled. Getting the eldest Cartwright brother to smear dirt and tree dust all over his work sweated face.  
It had been a sight to behold. The kicker being that neither of them had gotten a lick of backlash from it. Almost as if Adam didn’t begrudge them the fun. Huh. 

 

~

 

The grocer’s was popped into, the peppermints bought and stored in a pocket, and the two started back down the boardwalk in better spirits than they’d felt in days. Least, that’s how Candy was feeling. What with the peppermint Hoss’d handed him, saying Joe wouldn’t miss _one_ and that he deserved it for going to get the guy’s horses from town anyhow.  
The sweet treat practically melted in his mouth and made Candy glad that Joe had an older brother, or maybe two, who spoiled the youngest rotten. 

“Oh, ‘fore I forget,” the brother in question began. “We need to stop by Doc Rosebaum’s place. Adam went redder’n a brick when he realized he hadn’t paid her. Completely slipped ‘is mind,” Hoss said as he chuckled to himself. Feet pointing him off toward the doc’s office. 

“Lordy, I hadn’t even _thought_ about that,” Candy said, completely understanding the uncharacteristic oversight. After all, even Adam had taken the tragedy hard. Harder maybe than he let on. 

“Yeah, I reckon I didn’t neither. I’m sure she’ll un’erstand though. Prolly happens _all_ the time, her line of work,” Hoss said, quite reasonably. 

“Yeah, I s’pose when someone’s hurt, wouldn’t be the best time to talk about them payin’ you fer services rendered,” Candy agreed with a chortle. 

“Guess Doc’s gotta put up with a lot of late payments,” Hoss agreed. 

“Hey, least Adam remembered eventually,” Candy said, one finger held up to make the point. 

“Yep. Then reminded Pa, who decided what a fair rate was, gave me the money, and now here we are: Rosebaum, M.D.,” Hoss said with a sweep of one windmill blade like arm. 

“Well, after you, errand boy,” Candy said, opening the door and standing with one hand held to invite his companion through first. 

Hoss scoffed and clapped Candy on the shoulder as he entered the office, unawares that the cowhand in red was _sure_ he’d be feeling the jovial gesture in the morning. If not sooner. 

They paid the Doctor, bid her husband a good day, collected the team and cart, and were on their merry way. Candy pleased that Hoss elected to ride his own horse and lead rope Candy’s, leaving the job of driver to the guy who’d been looking forward to this part all day. 

A couple excitable, soft in the mouth horses under his reigns, Candy smiled out at the desert road before him and hoped they made it home in time for dinner. 

By the time the four of them got home, the sun had waned and the majority of dinnertime had passed, but the majority of the food remained. To Hoss _and_ Candy’s unending delight. 

Toward the end of the delicious meal, the man at the rightful head of the table cleared his throat and addressed the two tardy, trail dusty cow hands, letting them know that Joe had had a busy day and was already asleep for the night. 

Candy felt his spirits droop at the news, not having had the opportunity for a proper visit in over a full day, but the flake off the bone chicken didn’t turn to dust in his mouth and he finished his meal with a happy belly regardless. Knowing Joe was at least resting comfortably. 

And, Candy thought as he lost a game of chess to a highly amused Adam, if he was lucky, that comfortable rest would be just the trick to Candy getting himself a visit with his ailing best friend. While he was awake. And up for a nice chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t written all that much for Hoss before this point, so I’m hoping he came across well. I like to think that he’s very protective of anyone in need, but _especially_ so of those he cares for. Which **definitely** includes his family. :D


	18. How ‘Bout Some Candy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Candy both have busy days again, only this time, part of that day includes having time for a nice chat.

“Hoo boy, I’ve never had French toast _quite_ like that,” Candy said with a glance thrown behind himself. Back in the direction of the cafe in which Joe and he had only minutes ago finished an exotic lunch. 

Joe smiled to himself and nodded agreement. “I had my doubts about the bear sign when the menu had them listed as ‘oily cakes’, but I probably could’ve eaten a whole ‘nother plate of ‘em.”

“If only yer stomach were a little bigger, right?” Candy chided. 

“ _Much_ bigger,” Joe chuckled. Coming to a stop on the boardwalk and looking across from where they found themselves.  
“I’ll let Jody know we’re bringin’ the wagon ‘round,” Joe said, knowing it was time they got around to the only chore they’d been given for the day. 

“She’ll be pleased as pie at the extra work!” Were Candy’s parting words as he turned to take the steps down to street level. Sending Joe a smile as he hit it. 

Then Joe woke to the thunder of hooves, and the tang of fear sharp on his tongue. 

 

~

 

Candy smiled as he knocked on Joe’s door, Hop Sing having nodded permission at him when he’d left the room himself, arms laden with a lunch tray dotted in leftovers craftily disguised as oversized crumbs.  
“Joe?” He asked, being polite and requesting entry. As opposed to barging right on in as his less mature side _might_ have been begging him to. 

“Come on in, Candy,” came just the invitation Candy’d been hoping for.

So the red shirted ranch hand’s smile widened and he pushed the door open with a little more force than strictly necessary, eager to finally meet up with a lucid Joe for a good and proper visit.  
When he finished shutting the door behind him and turned to face the room’s occupant full on, his smile threatened to reach his ears. 

“Good to see a friendly face, Canaday,” Joe greeted from where he was tucked away in bed, leaned against a rather luxurious looking mound of pillows and cushions. 

“Nice of you to take time from your busy schedule to see me this fine day, my dear Joseph,” Candy greeted right on back. Taking the seat by the bed as his friend smiled at their fun. 

“It really is nice to see you, Candy,” Joe insisted. Followed by a short pause wherein it felt like the two of them were just _looking_ at each other. Both glad things hadn’t turned out any worse than they had. 

“Yeah, Joe,” Candy started, feeling but resisting the compulsion to clear his perfectly clear throat. “It’s good- _more’n_ good to see you too. How- how’s the bedrest been treatin’ ya?” Candy asked. Stumbling over his words when Joe’s sincere stare didn’t waver. Almost as if the bedridden guy was searching him for something. 

“Keeps my lunch down,” Joe said with a tiny shrug. 

“Well, that there’s gotta make it worth the effort alone, hasn’t it?” Candy asked, noticing as he did the soft shadows under his friend’s eyes. Indicative of sleep lost or... No, Joe didn’t look sick. Or did he?  
A little dulled around the edges and tired, but hopefully not more so than was expected. After all, Hop Sing hadn’t done anything to stop him coming in and bothering his patient. But, even that comforting thought wasn’t enough to stop Candy’s closer hand from reaching out and giving Joe’s neck a light touch. 

“Candy?” Joe asked with a confused blink. 

“Oh, just checkin’ your temperature.”

“Oh,” Joe said, a hint of something strangely close to disappointment in the syllable. “Hop Sing did that too.”

“Huh, I s’pose the chef makes an excellent nurse after all,” Candy observed, noticing how Joe’s eyes seemed to trail his hand as it left him, distracted by the simple action. 

“Hm? Oh, no, he’s a _terrible_ nurse. Wouldn’t **dare** let a soul recuperate in peace,” Joe said, amused in spite of his words of censure. 

“Oh, well, if it’s ‘peace’ you’re lookin’ for,” said the man in red as he hefted himself from his seat 

”No, _please_ ,” Joe said, surprising Candy when he sat up straighter and shot out the hand not encumbered by a cast to snatch at his sleeve. 

“Woah, I was only funnin’; no need to strain yerself,” Candy said, retaking his chair and doing his best not to let a sudden twinge of guilt set in the way it was threatening to. The effort increasing when he saw the subtle signs of pain on his friend’s face. 

Joe took a breath before doing anything else and this time, Candy found his own eyes trailing a hand as it left _him_.  
“Sorry, it’s just-“

“Oh, I understand, Joe. It’s gotta be hard, cooped up in here all day, no excitement nor fun allowed,” Candy reassured. Hoping to lighten the mood back up. 

“That’s just the _start_ of it,” Joe informed, look bleakening subtly. “It’s- I haven’t seen _you_ in- And it’s just like Adam said: I can’t get it out of my **head** that you almost-” Candy watched Joe pause for breath, the poor guy’s face showing a stress the friend in the chair wasn’t sure the origin of. So he listened harder.  
“Candy,” Joe restarted, “That day in town? We almost died. I almost died and at the same time, I almost lost my best friend.” 

“Yer ‘special’ friend?” Candy asked, making one last ditch effort at bringing the conversation back to a place where it didn’t put so much stress on-

“Yes. My _special_ friend.” Joe amended. 

Candy may have paled a smidge when his attempt at levity only made things **more** serious, but the tone persuaded him that this was something Joe really did want to talk about. Even if it was painful.  
So Candy adjusted his seat and let himself inspect his own feelings concerning the harsh realities of their shared near death experience. “Joe, I almost died; I almost watched you die in my hands- your **blood** dried on my hand, and, right now?” he paused to take in the look of resonance on the face of the man who’d absolutely, undoubtedly saved his life. “I couldn’t be gladder to be sittin’ here, starin’ at _my_ special friend, talkin’ about how glad we are to still be breathin’.” He gave Joe a look of sincere gratefulness before going on. “I’m so- I can’t-” Candy cut himself off, not all that sure what it was he’d been going to say, but knowing he needed to say it.  
“I’m so glad, I could kiss you. Right on the lips.”

“What’s stopping you?” Came Joe’s plain worded challenge. 

Eyes going double their resting size and mouth suddenly dry as the Nevada desert, Candy had to double take at the question.  
That wasn’t Joe’s kidding face. 

Candy scrambled for an explanation for what the injured man had just insinuated- _asked_ him. After a few seconds of grasping at mental straws, his mind lit upon exactly the reason for the madness. “You said that o-on account of all that laudanum you got in yer belly,” Candy said. Disappointed when it sounded rather out of breath. 

“Nope,” Joe said. Popping the ‘p’ ever so slightly. “Haven’t had any since Adam came in for a visit.”

“How long ago was that?”

Joe paused a second to study the light coming in through the window. “Long enough.”

“So, you mean to tell me, it’s time for _another_ spoonful?” Candy asked with an eyebrow raised. 

“No, Candy, that’s not what I ’mean to tell you’.” Candy watched Joe shake his head, knowing that that would make it hurt more than it must already have. Yep. If that cringe was anything to judge by, it was most certainly time for more. So Candy reached a hand out for the side table.  
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” 

Candy looked up right quick at the prickly delivery. “Why yes. That’s how come I know it’s time for another spoonful,” he said with just a hint of levity. 

“Be considerate for one second and hear me out.” There wasn’t anything the ranch hand in the red shirt could do in the face of _that_ look. Half pleading, half demanding, and **all** kinds of confusing. So he just relaxed in his chair and nodded.  
“Thank you,” Joe said, sounding like he was calming down, but without losing the serious tone. 

“Joe, are you sure-“

“Eh! _Listening_ , Canaday?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alright then,” the guy in the bed said, readjusting to face his visitor better. Making it harder for Candy to deny the determination in those vivid eyes. “I remember... what happened.”

Candy felt his eyes go wide again. Not near as wide as before, but wide still. After all, that was big news. “That’s good,” he said with an encouraging nod. 

“Yeah. It is.” Joe said, mouth turning up just a hair. “Uh, I remember seeing the horse coming right for you, and you not seeing it. On account of you lookin’ the other direction or- or some such.” Candy nodded, wishing that that lunch date had ended **very** differently. Cursing himself for not having been more vigilant. “And I remember shouting for you, and shoving you out of the way, but I don’t remember how I got to you on time.”

“You weren’t all that far behind me,” Candy explained. Almost distracted as the scene played out in his mind at the unpleasant reminders. “Shoved _real_ hard too.” 

Joe chuckled at that. “Wish I could say I was sorry, but...”

“But no such luck?”

“Yep. No such luck,” Joe said. Seeming to relax a tick at the familiarity of their joking. “Uh, right. Then I remember you dragging me out of the street. And,” he paused a second, looking almost like he was concentrating on hearing something from the other room. “And you said something, then I said something, and... I **meant** it.” 

Candy was having a hard time believing what he was hearing. Until he renewed their eye contact and saw the certainty there.  
Joe wasn’t kidding. And he **definitely** remembered. Remembered the way Candy did, how Joe, barely clinging to consciousness, gripping red sleeved arms for dear life, had insisted that his only folly... had been falling for _him_.

“Candy, I meant it and I meant what I said by the lake and I _meant_ what i said just- just a minute ago.” Candy couldn’t help looking away while he caught his breath, but he forced himself to look back when the full implication hit him.  
“We’re... we’re special- We have something special and I finally realized, when I saw that madman on the horse tearing up dirt to take you down, exactly what that means to me.”

“Joe?”

“Let me finish. Please.” Candy swallowed and indicated he was listening. “Our friendship means... a lot to me, and I don’t want any of that to change, but I-“ The rest of the sentence was cut off when the other half of that friendship equation tipped forward from his chair and pressed their lips together. Taking just enough care that he avoided causing the injured man any more head trauma. 

It was a sweet, tender, surprising thing and when Candy pulled away he was shocked that his nerves weren’t completely shot. In fact, he felt a sudden surge of confidence he’d have never expected to feel in such a... Actually, he’d never expected a situation like _that_ one to present itself. So it was surprises all around. Including when he pulled his gaze up to meet the one above the lips he’d just kissed, and found them the size of saucers.  
“To answer your question: I never kissed you because... you never asked me to. Till now.”

“That so? A, uh, a gentleman through and through, huh?” Joe said, averting his eyes and giving his own lips an unconscious licking. The pink crawling up from his night shirt collar pushing Candy’s steady heartbeat a hair faster. 

“Yep. ‘Fraid so.”

“Have- have we had this conversation before?” Joe asked, looking like he was trying to remember something that happened a long, long time ago. 

“Yep. ‘Fraid so. More’n once, actually,” Candy informed with a smirk. 

“Did we... go on a _date_?”

“Yep. Also more’n once, come to think of it,” Candy said, giving his head a scratch as he pondered over the multiple times the other brothers Cartwright had pushed him to take their youngest member somewhere. Especially the times they went unaccompanied.  
“And I was a gentleman through it all,” he added with full confidence. 

“And a gentleman like yourself wouldn’t be interested in... spending the night... would he?” Joe asked, peeking over at said gentleman with a look of, not mischief, strangely, but worry. 

“Why, what would be the occasion?” Candy asked. Tone neutral as he could get it. 

“I... I keep dreaming I don’t make it in time. Only now, I remember it when I wake up.” 

“Oh.” All Candy could say for a moment. “Is _that_ what that was? Huh.”

“What _what_ was?” Joe asked. Face going a smidge _more_ worried. 

“Oh, just a little nothin’; don’t mind me,” Candy said, thinking back to the first night back in the house that he’d spent slumped in the very same chair he currently found his rump perched upon. When Joe’d woken him from a peaceful snooze with a shout that near woke the whole house.  
“But, uh, I’m flattered you care enough to dream about me,” he said with a bat of his eyes. 

“Yeah, you _would_ be, wouldn’t you?” Joe said with a grumble. “But I wouldn’t call these ‘dreams’.”

“I know, Joe. I was just funnin’,” Candy said, looking down at the edge of the bed. Wondering whether its occupant would mind him-  
Aw heck, he thought, moving from the provided seat to rest his keister on something soft for a change. Besides, if Joe minded, he could _say_ so. 

“...So, is that a yes? To spending the night?” Joe asked, sounding less than confident. 

“I reckon it is, Joe. So long as I don’t have to sit it in that chair, nothin’s gonna stop our sleepover happenin’,” Candy assured. Confidence intact as he sneaked a hand over Joe’s, near the edge of the bed. Relishing the way neither of them pulled away at the amorous touch. 

After a pause spent largely avoiding gazing into each other’s eyes, Joe took in a small breath and opened his mouth. “Candy?”

“Yeah, Joe?”

“...You wanna kiss me again?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Candy whispered. Leaning in for another of his new favorite things. 

 

~

 

Morning found Joe waking from yet another dream concerning his latest near death experience, only this time, it was to the sight of the fully dressed, _obviously_ alive body of the man he’d **successfully** saved that fateful day laying next to him. Snoozing away above the covers and looking cozy as could be. 

Candy’d done exactly what he’d promised and spent the night, and Joe couldn’t be any happier. Or so he thought. Until the peaceful face under that slightly wavy shock of dark hair began to stir and he found himself looking his... special friend in the sleep clouded eyes. 

“Mornin’, Joe,” the ranch hand mumbled. 

“Mornin’, Candy,” Joe mumbled right on back. 

“Morning, lovebirds,” came a voice from just inside the door. Where an exceedingly amused Adam just so happened to be leaning. _Watching_ the two of them gape back at him. 

“Don’t tell Pa!” The only thing Joe’s brain could work past his choked off throat on such short notice. 

After a couple perplexed seconds, Joe joined in the resultant laughter. Realizing the sheer ridiculousness of what he’d shouted at his eldest brother.  
No one wouldn’t laugh at such a thing. Even Hop Sing, when he pushed his way through the door, arms weighed down by a tray of breakfast foods, couldn’t help but bust out in accompanying laughter at the sight of two full grown cow punches squeezed together on a bed meant for one. 

At least the interlopers eventually agreed to not tell the rest of the house what they'd witnessed that fine morning. Otherwise, Joe was pretty sure there’d be some explaining to do and he wasn’t in any condition to dodge such a conversation. Not _yet_ anyway. 

Eventually, Candy slipped off the bed with promises to visit as soon as the day allowed, and was followed closely out by an Adam who hadn’t stopped smirking since Joe’s little outburst. Leaving Joe to begin on a breakfast Hop Sing’d served early with the sole purpose of having time to hover close so he could make sure Joe ate ‘every last crumb’. 

Boy, with family like that, Joe thought as he forced the last bite of soft-scrambled egg down his gullet with a forced smile, how could he _not_ want to keep a few, love related things secret? At least for a while. 

Well, cat was out of the bag now. Or, mostly, anyway. And Joe **still** couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teehee, me thinks Adam was _spying_ on them! Haha! He’s a funny one alright! Wonder how long he’d been standing there? Ah, well, I suppose some things are just plain not meant to be known. ;D


	19. Pa’s Two Cents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another unexpected visitor and a heart to heart Joe _never_ saw coming.

What seemed like not three hours after his oldest, sternest, most serious brother, plus the only person in the house who spoke more than one language, had barged into his room, laughed at he and Candy’s nocturnal arrangement and allowed themselves to be sworn to secrecy about it, Joe was payed yet another visit. Though, not by Sheriff Coffee, who he hoped he hadn’t scared off for good with his little ‘episode’ the other day, and not from his other brother either.  
No, when Joe looked up from where he’d been staring off into empty space, counting the pangs his head sent him between every throb from his wrist —it was a four to one beat—, it was to the sight of his pa looking uncharacteristically unsure as he shut the door behind himself.

“Is it lunch time already?” Joe asked, wondering if he’d somehow lost track of time yet again. Something that it turned out had most likely been happening more frequently than he’d have guessed. 

“Hm? Oh, no, Hop Sing’s only starting on lunch now,” Ben said as he walked up to and took the seat by the bed. Making him the third unexpected visitor to sit in it in only the last day or so. 

“Oh. Was there something... _else_ then?” Joe found himself prompting when his pa just sat there, continuing to look rather undecided about something. 

“Yes. I was hoping to speak with you at a time when there wouldn’t be interruptions,” Ben Cartwright explained. 

“Okay... Uh, I’m all ears,” Joe encouraged when nothing more was said. 

“Hm? Oh, right,” Ben said with a chuckle, adjusting his perch on the questionably comfy seat. “Yes, I was hoping to talk to you, Joseph, about your heart.” 

“M-my _heart_?” Joe asked, feeling the muscle in question speed up and his eyes go wide. “But the doc said everything was fine, right? What- what-“

“No, there’s no question of health; Your heart is **fine** , Joe, just-“ Ben cut himself off, took a breath, and started from the beginning.  
“I was hoping to talk to you about what it is your heart _wants_.”

”To get out of this bed?”

Ignoring the quip, the father went on, relatively unperturbed. “I have been made aware of certain details concerning your and Candy’s friendship and I have come here today to give you my blessing.“

“Blessing? What’s going on? What blessing?” Joe asked, feeling a faint chill run down his spine at the strange look his pa was giving him. 

“My blessing in your and Candy’s pursuit of each other’s... affections,” Ben said, sounding marginally less unperturbed. 

“I don’t- Who- _What_ -“ Joe blanched as he realized his pa **knew**. He knew and he was staring straight into Joe’s eyes and his face was getting hard around the edges and he was opening his mouth again and-

“Joseph, the heart knows what the heart wants, and if what your heart wants is a saddle tramp, _this_ saddle tramp, then, by thunder, there is nothing your brothers, Hop Sing, nor myself will do to stop it pursuing him.” The hard look melted to something approaching reassuring and Joe’s pa opened his mouth once more. “Besides, it’s nice to have company at the table. Our cook hates left overs.“

“ _I’ll_ say,” Joe agreed with an ultimately relieved chuckle, surprised by his pa’s apparent support concerning the issue of blossoming affections on the ranch.

The father looked at his injured son in a way that Joe wasn’t quite sure he’d seen before; part understanding, part _hoping_ for understanding. 

“Joseph, do you know the nature of Hop Sing and my relationship. Aside from simply employee and employer, respectively?” 

“Yeah, Pa, you’re… good friends?“

“Yes. Yes we are. But, there is something more there that… most don’t tend to look for. A sort of fondness and closeness formed over many long years of hardship, good times, and heartbreak,” Ben said. Strange look unchanging. 

Joe paused a moment to ponder the riddle. “You love each other?“

“Without a doubt,” Ben affirmed with a convicted nod. 

“But, Hop Sing has his own ‘personal quarters’, and-and-and- you _both_ date ladies, and-

“Yes. Our relationship is rather... unconventional. It is platonic at its core, yet we support each other, we care for each other, we’re the closest of friends, and you’re right: we do live in _very_ separate quarters and we live our separate lives, but we do so **together**. And we do so happily,” Ben explained. All patience. Before he continued though, Joe noted the slight turn toward melancholy his pa’s expression took.  
“Both of us were hit quite hard, harder than perhaps most could imagine, by the death of your mother. She truly was an amazing person,” Ben said with a blue chuckle. “In that time of grief, we had no one to turn to but ourselves. And to each other. It was during that period, and in the ensuing weeks if not months, that we came to realize a bond existed. Made all the stronger by everything that we had been through over the short years that we had already known each other.” A fond look passed over his father’s face as Joe watched, transfixed. “He was there for your biggest brother’s birth. He helped me raise your oldest brother after his mother died. He’s been here…“

“Forever?“

“Yes. Forever.“ The solemnity in that one, small action of a nod gave Joe a new appreciation for the subtly of human expression. Or, more specifically, for his _pa’s_ capacity for subtlety. 

“I’ve always thought of him as part of the family,“ said Joe, a smile beginning to play at the corner of his lips. “Doesn’t help that I’ve known him as long as I’ve known you,“ he added with a cheeky slant to his brow.

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t,” Ben said with eyes downcast. Not in a way that indicated shame or shyness, but the presence of fond memories.  
When his pa looked back up at him, it was with a certainty in his gaze that pinned every ounce of Joe’s attention exactly where it was. “The relationship that Hop Sing and I share is a special one. I hope- I _wish_ for something equally as special for you and your Candy,” the patriarch sitting by his bed said, sounding as if he had barely refrained from referring to his employee once again as instead, ‘saddle tramp’.  
Joe appreciated the effort. 

“Thanks, Pa. That means a lot.”

“You’re welcome, son. And, uh, I wouldn’t want you to worry about me not understanding if and, indeed, _when_ you ever need to speak with me a-about this... subject.” It took his pa a moment to retrieve the correct word, waving a hand in a small circle from the wrist as he stood from his chair. “Adam told me that he’d already had a touching conversation with you about not being afraid to voice your feelings to-”

“Adam _what_?” Joe asked with an unbelieving blink.”

“Adam’s the one that told me you two whippersnappers were... ‘sweet on each other’,” the last of the sentence preceded again by a pause and the twirling of one hand as the phrase was searched for. 

“Well, leave it to Adam, I guess,” Joe said with a roll of his eyes. Causing his head to give an unpleasant pang which reminded him why it was he was still confined to bed. “But what made him so sure he was right about all this? Why do _you_ think he’s right about a-any of this?” The raised eyebrow that got him had Joe wondering whether it hadn’t come out a mite disrespectful. So he tacked on a, “Sir?” for good measure. 

With a sigh teetering on the cusp of long suffering, Ben explained the method to his madness. “Adam has been around the world, my dear Joseph. And even before that, if any a judgement I’d trust besides my own, Adam’s is one of them.”

“So, you _really_ wouldn’t mind hearing about... Candy and me ‘being sweet on each other’?” Joe asked, disappointed by the timidness in his voice. 

“Joseph,” his pa said, pausing for effect, “I’d be delighted.”

“Thanks, Pa,” said a Joe who hoped the pink wasn’t showing on his cheeks. 

“No trouble at all,” said his pa. Before the busy man made for the exit. “Oh, eh, might want to put an effort into finishing your lunch,” Ben added as he opened the door. “Hop Sing’s beginning to worry.” And with that, the father left to see to some chores, and make himself ready for the second meal of the day. 

“Is _that_ what he calls it?” Joe mused to an empty room. Both feeling a good deal of hope for the future, and hoping that his stomach was up for a full helping when the tray made its way around again. For his own good, as well as everyone else’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope news of Ben and Hop Sing’s longstanding queer-platonic relationship doesn’t come as a _complete_ surprise. If read carefully, they have been quite affectionate with each other for this story! XD  
>  If it does though, I’ll still take it as a compliment, because I was also trying to write them the way they are on the show itself!  
> And yay for solidarity! Joe and his pa are gonna be besties for life!


	20. Getting Better All The Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe’s bored and well on his slow and steady way back to full health. Hopefully he has someone special to help him pass the otherwise monotonous time!

Candy only needed to spend the one night in the convalescence room. Seemed Joe’s subconscious got the hint after that and completely quieted down about the subject of... death. Which was greatly appreciated. 

Sure, Candy only _needed_ to spend the one night, but that didn’t stop him from _nearly_ spending three more.  
But Joe, reluctantly, argued against it. Winning when he pointed out that, partly so Candy’s bunkmates didn’t think he’d been mysteriously fired, and partly so Adam and Hop Sing had less opportunity for laughing at them, it was in fact a ‘good’ idea for each of them to sleep in their own bed. 

Thankfully, that didn’t stop the scamp from coming by for both a thoughtful good morning and good night. **Every** morning and night.  
Joe’s certain the scoundrel would have given him a good night kiss each time too, if it weren’t for the memory of Adam and Hop Sing practically crying with mirth that one morning.  
Apparently, there was no such thing as privacy in the house of Cartwright. 

On the plus side, a few days had passed since the... cuddling incident, and the witnesses were ostensibly keeping to their sworn silences. Which was really more than Joe had been confident they’d get. 

So, glad about that if about little else, Joe found himself lounging in the living room for a welcomed change of scenery, and was reminded of the many other times he’d had to take time off work in favor of laying around the house. Being useless. Or ‘healing’, as Ben liked to call it.  
Feeling reminded especially by the part where he had people telling him _constantly_ to ‘stay out of trouble’.  
As if he could somehow manufacture himself even a speck of trouble when he could barely walk from the sofa to the dining table and back on his own. Never mind that walking outside while the sun was out would probably give him a splitting headache. As opposed to the _regular_ one he was trying to read through right that minute. 

But, he was quick to realize, as annoying as trying to read words that wouldn’t stop going double was, it barely compared to how very annoyed one could grow, natural like, just by virtue of having nothing better to do.  
Nothing better to do than watch his family go about their days without a hitch in their steps, walking up and down the stairs Joe wouldn’t dare try for at least a couple more days, waving as they left to go **do** things until the next scheduled meal time came around. 

But being annoyed by the sight and sounds of his family being active and healthy only made Joe feel guilty. After all, he could never bring himself to wish anything else on them. Especially not injury or ill health.  
So he mostly ignored that petty part of his mind and focused instead on being annoyed with his stupid eyes, because reading a plain old book had never been so trying. Not since he’d first learned _how_ to read anyway. 

“ _Hello_ , Joe,” came an unexpected, whispered greeting from right next to his ear. 

“Candy?! What in-“

“Hee, I got you good!” Said the cowhand as he slipped over the back of the sofa and settled himself on the cushion next to Joe for a nice little sit. “What ya readin’?”

“Isn’t there something work related you’re supposed to be doing right about now?” The guy who basically wasn’t allowed outside asked, managing to hold back being snippy and settling for something closer to... patient. Sole reason for it being that Candy had at least had the decency to be _quiet_ while he scared the daylights out of him. And since Joe hadn’t flinched too bad, his headache was still just an annoyance at the middle ground of his mind. 

“Ever heard of playin’ hooky?” Candy breezed right on back. Completely unconcerned. 

“Psh, I’ll be _happy_ when I get back to work; this laying around doing nothing thing is just- it’s horrible!” Joe informed. A little gesture around the otherwise unoccupied living space rounding out his argument. 

“Well now, I don’t know ‘bout ‘doing nothing’,” Candy said as he made a show of making himself comfy in his seat. “You’re readin’. That’s somethin’.”

“It _would_ be,” Joe started, a hint of frustration audible even to his own ears, “if my eyes would let me read the words printed on the darn page.”

To that, Candy simply sat a little straighter. Before he reached over and slipped the book from Joe’s unsuspecting grasp. “Well, where should I start?” The book snatcher asked with aplomb. 

Joe gave his hooky playing friend an incredulous look before motioning with his good hand and saying, “The beginning.“ To which, Candy raised a questioning eyebrow. “Like I said, didn’t get very far on my own.”

“You weren’t kiddin’ there, but this’ll be better anyhow. Now I get to hear it from the beginnin’ too,” Candy assured with a sage nod. Before thumbing through pages until he hit the first one and scootching ‘subtly’ closer to a Joe who was sitting patiently, waiting for the story to begin.  
The ranch hand in red cleared his throat before starting. “It is a TRUTH universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Joe held back a snort when Candy just about set the book down right then and there. 

“What in Sam Hill _is_ this?” The guy who wasn’t even supposed to be inside that fine hour demanded, flipping the book around in hopes of finding answers. “‘Pride And Prejudice’?” At that he cut a sideways glance which Joe _did_ snort at. 

“Adam said it’s good. Said i-it’s a satire. Means it makes fun of folks,” Joe explained at the drawn eyebrows. And the ever so slightly disbelieving eyes below. 

“Well, if it’s a _satire_ ,” Candy said, sounding as if he was trying out a brand new word. One he was hoping to soon be best friends with. Then he opened the book back up to page one, gave his throat another clearing, and started from the beginning once more. 

 

~

 

It took them a few days, but the two self-appointed biggest loafs on the Ponderosa finished the book and managed not to get caught doing it.  
Sure, there were a few near misses along the way, but they got through it without anyone throwing a fit, so Joe chalked it up to a win for the book club team.  
After all, if Hoss or Hop Sing or, Heaven forbid, Ben himself had barged in and caught Candy red handed, in the act of shirking work, there would have been some... explaining to do.

To make matters worse, the guy in the dark vest hadn’t been reading just any old book. No, it turned out ‘Pride And Prejudice’ was a _romantic_ satire, so anyone walking in on Candy reading **that** out loud? The man would never have heard the end of it.  
Unless it had been Adam walking in. He might’ve sat a while and helped them with some of the pronunciations, seeing as he’d been the one to recommend and lend it to Joe in the first place. 

“Can’t say it’s exactly my cup of tea,” Candy started as he set the finished book on the edge of the coffee table, “but I must admit: that Austin lady _sure_ knows how to write. And make fun of folks.”

“Uh-huh. So what you’re saying, Mr. Canaday,” Joe started, affecting a stuffy attitude, “is that you’re sad to see it come to an end?”

“Well, I don’t know ‘bout ‘sad’, Mr Cartwright,” Candy said, imitating his ailing friend’s affectation, “but if’n I ever get the chance to read satire again, I wouldn’t be _against_ another Austin.”

The snickering almost got them found out when Hop Sing poked his head out from a kitchen who’s food smells were just starting to tease the living room air.  
Thankfully, Candy’d seemingly trained himself to duck at the whisper soft sound of distant footfalls, so the chef had thought his patient was simply snickering to his own amusement. 

Not strange at all. 

 

~

 

Joe grew less and less annoyed with his daily life the farther he could walk unassisted. 

Before long, once he was again confident in his ability to walk a straight line without taking a spill, he was venturing outside the house for the chance to breathe in the fresh Nevada air. Splinted arm in a sling, and eyes squinted against the harsh rays of the desert sun. 

If the burning light in the sky didn’t immediately magnify his headache, and he’d managed to time the excursion right, he’d soon find himself leaned against the family paddock fence and watching Rosy put Cochise through her paces. Diligently exercising her around the ring and facing off against a horned barrel so the cow smart pinto wouldn’t lose her edge. Joe exchanging a little repartee with the groom while he did his best not to wish it was him up in the saddle.  
Mostly exchanging barbs about how Cochise wasn’t gonna be happy when she had to get back to **real** work after all this time. 

The wry smile Rosy sent him at that told Joe she knew all about how restless and eager to be back out there he really was.  
The snort his black and white sent him told him she knew too. And that she felt the same. 

When the groom and horse finished up with their routine, if he was feeling up to it, Joe’d follow them back into the barn and sneak in a visit with Milkshake and Butterscotch. Slip them each a sugar cube before he slipped his way back in the house for a little alone time with the sofa and the inside of his eyelids. Attempting to soothe the ever present ache that seemed to **live** there those days. 

 

~

 

The evening the book was finished just so happened to also be the evening Joe was allowed once again the freedom to sleep in his own room. Which made for a happy evening indeed. To top it off, what with the sheets being freshly washed and the pillows fluffed to perfection, he slept like a well fed babe. 

The following morning, Candy knocking on his door to inform him that breakfast was ready, Joe finished the mostly one handed buttoning of his shirt with a smile which didn’t quit until the meal was over and done with. It may even have grown. Knowing that Candy, the sly dog, had made sure to walk down the stairs in front of him so that, if Joe stumbled, he wouldn’t have far to fall.

Something else that never failed to draw a smile from him was the thoughtful little visits that Candy peppered through those lonely days full of little other than monotony and familial overprotectiveness. Whether he came by to read to him, or read over his shoulder until Joe noticed he was there, play a quick game of checkers or chess, or even just update him on the smaller goings on in the outside world. 

Before long, the thoughtful little visits turned into thoughtful little outings which Candy dragged him off on soon as Joe was permitted to leave the premises for more than 10 minutes at a time.  
Being walked around the house to watch Candy sweat in the heat as he cut more and more firewood than the main house was **ever** going to need, doing his part by rounding up and handing over the occasional log when it tried to escape its fate by rolling off toward the tree line, all put a warm feeling in Joe’s chest. An infinitely more enjoyable thing than the petty jealousy of days previous. More productive too.  
Even got him to forget about his ever present headache for a spell. 

Watching Candy move fresh hay into the barn, then watching him and Rosy use it to clean out and freshen up the family horse stalls was its own kind of fun. What with the way Candy kept whining about ‘backbreaking labor’ and how it wasn’t fair Joe wasn’t allowed to join in the fun. 

“Now, Candy, you know why Joe isn’t allowed to join in,” said the main barn’s dedicated groom as she rested a foot on the prong base of her pitchfork. Inadvertently pushing it deeper into her heap of fresh hay. 

“Oh do I now?” Candy asked as he mirrored her relaxed stance. Joe chuckling at the show the two were putting on. 

“He’s got a head start on us. Already has a splint. By the end of today, all of us will match,” Rosy explained. Smirking when the barn filled with the sounds of definitely not worried laughter. 

 

~

 

Yep, thought Joe, on what was promised to be his last day of Pa imposed house arrest, as he cozied himself further into the sofa cushions and opened the new book Adam had just recommended and left him with, things were going alright. What with Hop Sing having _finally_ given the all clear and proudly presented Joe with an officially _un_ splinted arm. Which was staying in its homemade sling until ‘ **long** time from now’ further notice.  
Freedom, even if it was only gifted to his arm, never tasted so sweet. 

“Joe,” came a call for attention from the front door. Which, when the sofa’s lone occupant turned to check, was open with a red shirted someone standing silhouetted right inside. Hand on the doorknob. 

“Candy.” Joe acknowledged as he turned back to the new, hopefully entertaining, gift Adam had left him. 

“Joe, why aren’t you ready?” Asked Candy as he stepped into the foyer. 

“Ready? What for?” Joe asked as he resigned himself to _not_ reading. Even though his eyes were well and truly back to normal on that front.

“Our picnic. Or would you prefer to spend today inside as well-“

“I’m ready!” Joe said. Cutting Candy and his ridiculous notion off same time as he barely held back tossing the book away from him in his haste to stand. Instead setting it respectfully on the coffee table. 

“Huh. Well that’s more like it. Now c’mon, the day’s beautiful and Milkshake ‘n’ Butterscotch are gettin’ restless!” Candy said, meeting Joe as he came around the sofa and taking him cordially by one arm as he directed him for the door. 

Joe hurried to keep up with Candy’s excited strides and nodded thanks when his escort snatched his cream colored hat from its hook by the door. Settling it firmly on his head just as the two of them hit the porch and the first small shafts of warming, mid morning sunlight.  
When he blinked the sight back into his dazzled eyes, Joe smiled with the realization that his head didn’t hurt any worse than it had back in the living room. And that hadn’t been more than an ‘eh’ on his headache scale, so the day was shaping up to be something special indeed. 

With a thought to what Candy’d said about his prized pulling team getting restless, Joe turned just enough to look the man who was guiding him bodily right in the face. “You already hitched them?”

The two kept walking even as the one without the sling shifted just enough to return the look. “Naw, Joe, I know how much you like watchin’ me work,” Candy said with a smirk “The twins know they’re goin’ somewhere today is all.”

“Oh.”

“Plus, they haven’t had their sugar cubes yet,” Candy added with another smirk. 

 

~

 

Candy was right, thought Joe as he watched the ranch hand hooking up his team to a Ponderosa buggy, he _did_ like watching him work.  
Liked the way his deceptively strong arms never faltered, the muscles _just_ recognizable as they bunched under the sleeves of his shirt.  
Liked the way the man was every bit as gentle with his horses as Joe himself was, even if he looked a tad confused when he spoke low words of encouragement to the pair.  
And, it turned out, Joe **really** liked it when the guy who’d sprung him from another boring day inside looked over at him from across a horse’s back or over one shoulder... and winked. Just for him.  
Was almost enough to make him blush. 

Huh. If a wink was all it took, maybe that teasing look Rosy was suddenly angling his direction was more warranted than not. 

 

~

 

Turned out, Candy had had the machinations regarding their little outing figured out for _days_.  
How he got Hop Sing to pack them a basket, Joe figured would forever be a mystery, but he’d be surprised if Adam didn’t have something to do with it.  
For some reason, their chef seemed to have a soft spot for the eldest Cartwright boy. One that may well have stretched as far as _respect_ even. 

As Candy disengaged the brake and asked the creamies to, “Walk on,” Joe sat back and happily reacquainted himself with the feeling of his team’s gait.  
Before they reached the end of the drive though, feeling his brows scrunch minutely, Joe opened his mouth to pose a question of his abductor. “Why the picnic? Today, I mean?”

“To celebrate the splint coming off!” Candy explained as they reached the main road, where he swung the buggy around and pointed them off and away. 

“Uh-huh. And where exactly might we be _going_ in order to celebrate this momentous occasion?” Joe asked. Unable to keep the wry teasing out of his question. 

“Oh, don’t worry; you’ll figure it out soon enough,” all the coachman seemed willing to say on the matter. So Joe leaned back and breathed in the sweet, sweet smell of freedom. The swaying of the buggy making it easy to pretend that Candy’s shoulder repeatedly brushing against his was unintentional and one hundred percent accidental.  
The fact that every brush felt less and less like a bump and more and more like a testing of the proverbial waters making Joe wonder why he felt compelled to pretend at all. 

The way the last brush was clearly close kin to a caress made him unwilling to do anything when the shoulder forgot the part where it bounced away at the end.  
Made him realize he didn’t want it to. 

So, almost without meaning to, Joe rested his head just a bit on the solid shoulder of the driver next to him and breathed deep that familiar scent that had so long meant ‘friend’. Thinking as he did, that he might need to revise that association just a hint. After all, best friends generally didn’t kiss each other on the lips. Especially not more than once. 

 

~

 

“Alright, we’re here!”

Joe blinked his eyes open to the sight of a stand of trees and a pair of cream colored horses coming to a stand between the harnesses of a buggy. 

“You want lunch or not?” Candy asked as he leaned forward to set the brake and tie the reigns in place. Careful as he did to continue supporting Joe’s slightly confused head. 

“I fell asleep?”

“More like hibernated,” Candy chuckled as Joe sat himself straight and surveyed their surroundings. 

“Is this-“

“Yep!” Said Candy, hopping down off the driver’s side and making for the harness on the closest horse. “Same place we picnicked last time!”

All Joe could do to that was sit there and try not to smile like a fool.  
Candy’d taken them out to that special place where they’d had what one could argue had been their first date. The pond with the ducks and the nice breeze and the-

“Well? Ain’t you gonna help me control these wild animals while I get ‘em unhitched?” Candy asked with a cheeky smirk. One meant just for _him_ , thought Joe as he rubbed the vestiges of a good nap from his face. Pleased knowing the simple action would also hide any potential blush from the guy who was almost done freeing the first half of the pulling team. 

“Yeah, keep your hat on, I’m coming,” Joe assured as he disembarked. Going for griping but hitting something closer to eager, to his dismay. 

“Hold yer horses there, pardner,” Candy said, holding a haltered, fuzzy head out from himself so that the guy with only one working arm could take charge of the first of the beasts of burden.  
It took a bit not to laugh at the word play. 

Never mind, thought Joe, as a chortle broke through his play annoyance, Candy deserved to know when he made him laugh. 

 

~

 

Before long, the two of them were more than halfway through their picnic lunch and having nothing if not a good time. Admiring the ducklings and the fact that they were at least twice the size as they’d been the last time they’d blown through for a lunch break. 

Lounging on a large gingham square, munching on good food, and enjoying the view, Joe sighed a contented sigh and stretched himself out. For once not minding the sling as it held his arm against his chest at a comfortable angle. 

“Well Joe, what do you think? Isn’t it just the most beautiful thing you ever done seen?” Candy asked of the guy who’s head he’d invited to rest on his red shirted belly.

Joe, grinning at the way he could _feel_ his lunch date’s question rumble from underneath his head, hummed as he considered.  
“I think… that it’s the _second_ most beautiful thing ‘I ever done seen’,” Joe started, glancing up at Candy from where he was laid back, enjoying his first headache free moments in... forever. “In fact, it’s _so_ beautiful, it makes me want to spend the rest of my life looking at it. That is,” Joe paused to let out a contented sigh, weighing his words for one more moment before forging ahead, “if I can spend the rest of my life looking at it alongside **the** most beautiful thing ‘I ever done seen’.”

A half second and Candy’s face had lined itself in confusion, brows drawing together as he tore his gaze from the picturesque scene before them.  
“Joe?”

“That is: If I can spend the rest of my life looking at it with **you** , Candy Canaday.” 

The look on Candy’s face was priceless. Worth more than a silver mine and the mountain on top of it. Hands down. 

“You mean that?”

“Mmhm.”

“But, we’ve only just _begun_ -“ Candy cut himself off to wave a hand in semi-desperation at the picnic blanket beneath them and the quaking ducks down by the water. 

“Well, way I see it, we’ve actually been doing-“ Joe mimicked the strange motion his date had so recently gifted them, “for a _while_ now.” Then he couldn’t stop the fond, exasperated smile that curled half of his mouth. “If you ask Adam though, this’s been going on just as long as your average courtship. Maybe longer.”

“On account of you mentionin’ me in yer letters?” Candy asked. Voice soft. 

“Yep. He never said anything about it, till recently, but he claims to have known about ‘us’ since he opened up my ‘latest correspondence’ after making port in Melbourne. Sipping chocolate and being bored by the chess competition.”

“That brother of yours. He’s gonna get us in trouble someday,” Candy said with a nearly silent chuckle. 

“Eh, according to _him_ , we do that just fine on our own,” Joe reminded, turning his face a little further towards his date turned pillow. 

“Well, if _he_ says so,” Candy said, surprising Joe ever so slightly with the way he leaned down to plant a sudden, soft kiss on his slightly parted lips.  
“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, now don’t leave me hangin’, Joe,” Candy lamented. Apropos of nothing. “Which is it gonna be?”

“Which is _what_ ‘gonna be’?” Joe asked 

“You wanna spend the rest of your life with me or not?”

“Of _course_ \- That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell- Hey,” Joe stopped to push himself a little straighter; closer to a sit than a lay. “That’s **my** line!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Candy snickered. Before just about losing it with a peel of fond, mischievous laughter that Joe couldn’t bring himself to hold against the guy.  
Especially not when his date sealed the deal with another surprise kiss. Followed by a tender hand sliding against one side of his jaw, coaxing Joe closer for another.  
And another.  
And another. 

Yeah, Joe thought as he allowed the man currently kissing him to angle his head _just_ so, there wasn’t a thing about this he was **ever** going to regret.  
So long as this was Candy’s way of saying ‘I do’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. Gosh. I think that was a marriage proposal y’all. And I think they **both** said YES.  
>  I’m so happy right now!


	21. What Would Ma Want?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It happened. Those two knuckleheads asked each other to marry each other. And no one said no.   
>  I wonder how the family’s gonna take it?

When the courting cowhands announced the happy news of their betrothal to a dinner table wreathed in people both older and arguably wiser than themselves, the most surprising reaction was given by one Adam Cartwright. 

“About time,” he’d said with a nearly imperceptible smirk, before going back to his rice and steak. 

Less surprising had been Hoss’s face splitting grin, followed by his bone crushing congratulatory ‘pats’ on the back.  
Before he too went back to eating. 

Ben though, choked quietly on his mouthful of food until, eyes watering and voice hoarse, he’d finally managed a, “What?”

Adam had a good laugh at that. One which lasted far longer than anyone at the table thought it deserved to.  
He made it up to everyone by explaining that the betrothed had in fact been courting far longer than even _they_ had been aware and that this was a perfectly well timed proposal. All things considered. 

Voice recovered, the patriarch of the Ponderosa wiped his mouth with a well pressed table napkin, straightened in his chair, and gave his youngest son a friendly, searching look. Then he opened his mouth.  
“Where shall we have the wedding?”

“ ** _Wedding_**?!”

The single, shouted word echoed well enough that Hop Sing brought dessert out early. Just to see what all the fuss was about. 

 

~

 

Having heard back from yet another of the less and less local churches he and Candy had been making inquiries into concerning the need for their immediate ‘unionization’, Joe sighed and slipped the flat out ‘no’ onto the pile of the same they’d accrued over the last handful of weeks and left in the den. Not so very far from the fireplace. 

After that dismal news, which Candy had tried _almost_ successfully to cheer him from with a quick kiss and a promise that ‘everything’d work itself out in the end’, Joe ended up spending a good portion of his day fretting, worrying, and generally wishing he had any _idea_ what he was supposed to do about the fast approaching start to what was promised to be the happiest days —or _decades_ —of his life. 

Feeling that he’d had **enough** of being distracted and unsure, Joe, in that small, relatively peaceful time that came every evening right before dinner, found his pa and asked if they might speak a moment in private.  
Ben, being the attentive father he was, and already being cleaned up for dinner, agreed without a thought and ushered them into the once again unoccupied guest bedroom. 

The son faced the proprietor of the largest, most prestigious ranch in the whole of the Nevada territory and began his plea for help by voicing a little reassurance regarding his choice of life partner.  
“I-I _know_ this is the right choice for me, Pa, but I’ve never heard of a man marrying a man in a church, and we’ve been to a **lot** of weddings over the years,” Joe said, having to pause to catch his breath by the end. “I **know** this is the right thing to do, Pa, but-“

“But nothing, Joseph,” said Ben as he laid a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. “You said it yourself: it’s the right thing to do. For you _and_ for Candy.”

“But without a priest, and that’s how it’s shaping out right now, is it really a wedding? Or-or would it somehow be... a sham?” Joe asked, a hint of desperation leaking into his voice. 

“Joseph, not everyone has access to a priest. There are those who live too far from a church to make the journey or who marry when the mountain passes are closed due to frozen winters who make due in other ways. Some by reading scripture themselves, and others by simply making it official between the two of them.” Ben gave Joe’s shoulder a pat, but the action did nothing to lessen the lines of worry etched in the younger man’s brow. 

Muscling his way past some form of indecision, Joe looked his pa in the eye and posed the question that had been eating at him worst. “What would Ma want?” When his pa froze, hand halfway back to his own side, Joe knew he’d had something to worry about after all.  
“I- Ma set store by the sanctity of marriage. She wore her ring with more pride than anyone I’ve ever seen, and I don’t think she’d’a ever let any son of _hers_ marry without the officiation of... _someone_ holy. O-or at least _ordained_.”

Joe watched his pa stare back at him, the man seeming at a loss in the face of such inarguable logic, and felt his spirits fall farther and farther as the seconds dripped by.  
He’d known it. His ma wouldn’t stand for a service without a priest. It just wouldn’t be a **marriage** without one. 

“Marie...” Ben started, wetting his lips before going on. “Your mother _was_ quite religious, you’re right about that.” He paused to huff out a laugh. “It had honestly slipped my mind. And I didn’t realize you remembered her well enough to recall such an intimate facet of her nature.”

“I remember her reading me passages from the Bible, in English _and_ French, when you, Adam, and Hoss were off on a cattle drive,” Joe recounted. A far off look on his face. 

“You were so young. I’m glad you have memories of your time together... and that you think of her fondly,” the father of three said with a soft, sad smile. Then, after a quiet few seconds, he took in a bolstering breath and forged on.  
“Well, it seems we do have ourselves a problem.”

“You’re telling _me_ ,” Joe agreed with a miserable nod. Right before the two of them flinched at the sound of a third voice joining in. 

“Oh, I don’t know that it’s so much a problem as all that,” said the eldest Cartwright boy as he barged, bold as brass, past the previously shut door and right into the room. Not even pretending he was ashamed at having ‘overheard’ the _private_ conversation taking place within. “I’ve been asking around myself, making inquiries, for a little over a month now and I think I’ve found _just_ the solution to this conundrum,” said Adam. Arms crossed in a self-satisfied manner. 

“ _You’ve_ been thinking a-about **this** , for a _month_ now?” Joe asked. All incredulousness. 

“A little _over_ a month now, dear brother, yes,” corrected the guy with the smug expression plastered across his face. 

“Oh? And what is it that you’ve heard?” Asked the only person in the room not readying for a good natured, sibling argument. 

“That there’s a traveling priest who is more than willing to come to anyone who needs help performing a marriage ceremony as... _unique_ as the one we’re planning,” Adam informed, with all due delicacy. 

“What’s this ‘we’ I’m hearing? Did I ask you for-“ 

“No. You didn’t _need_ to, Joe. I already knew my services would be required, so I took the liberty.” The smug look only got smugger with the brag. “You’re welcome.” 

“I’m welcome- Do you even know how to get in contact with this- this, uh,” Joe made a ‘help me out here’ motion with one hand.

“Rivera?”

“Yeah, how would we _possibly_ get in contact with this Rivera? With a wandering priest who could be halfway across the territory for all we-“

“There’s a forwarding address.”

“Come again?” Joe asked, confused. 

“I’ve heard tell there is a mission that this Rivera frequents as a sort of stop off for rest and supplies and...” Adam paused, ostensibly for dramatic effect, “for a new schedule of requested ‘appearances’.”

“You really think it’ll be that easy?” Joe asked, not bothering to censor the hope from his question. 

“Simply make it out to ‘Rivera Of The Cloth’ and the church will ensure it reaches the right ears,” Adam said. All confidence. 

“Ears?” Joe asked, not liking the sound of a letter carrying such sensitive information reaching... ears. 

“Oh yes, ‘ears’ indeed. They say that this roaming minister, Rivera, is blind. Or well enough so that correspondence must be translated to spoken word.”

“You seem to know quite a bit about this Rivera,” Ben pointed out, curiosity obvious. 

“Well, I _am_ known for being thorough.”

“Oh, yes, _quite_ ,” their pa agreed with a playful nod. 

“Well, we- we have to send a letter _immediately_ if this wedding’s happening _any_ where **near** -“

“I sent one.”

“Huh?” Joe asked, thinking maybe he’d misheard the man in black. 

“I sent a letter ‘kindly requesting the marriage services of Rivera Of The Cloth’. Including instructions on how to find our charming hacienda,” Adam explained. 

“A-and has Rivera...”

Adam met Joe’s eyes with a look devoid of pomp and circumstance. Just a plain old ‘Adam’ look, square into his baby brother’s face.  
“Rivera wrote back, and has agreed to be here just as soon as a couple of services ‘not too far off’ are seen to.”

Choking on a sudden swell of emotion, Joe stepped forward and wrapped his brother up in a spur of the moment, surprise hug. Which he felt returned soon as Adam got his wits about him well enough to stop imitating a put-upon scarecrow.  
“Thank you, Adam. You don’t know how much this means to me; to _Candy_ ; to-“

“To Ma?” Joe felt himself start at the familiarity in his brother’s voice. The kind which he’d rarely heard applied to their pa’s third wife by their pa’s first son.  
His surprise wasn’t lost on his arguably most perceptive relation, who retightened his arms around his little brother, keeping Joe from pulling himself out of the hug prematurely. “She may not have been my first, but she was my ma too, Joe. We were all- _all_ of us, hit hard by her passing and... I still remember the look on her face when she spoke to us of the joys of marriage and the importance of ‘doing it right’.” Adam took advantage of Joe’s reflective silence to pull far enough away to look his brother in the face.  
“I **know** this is what she’d want, Joe: you and Candy _happy_. And ‘properly’ married.”

The three men laughed at the last sentiment and Ben took the opportunity to swoop in and swallow up both of his sons in a long armed Cartwright sandwich hug. Then they broke apart and Joe ‘discretely’ rubbed at his eyes before looking his elders in the proud faces. 

“Thanks for being there for us, Pa. And, uh, thanks for taking care of the ‘no one’s ever heard of two men getting married’ problem, Adam.”

“Well, like I said, Joe: it’s not really a problem. But,” Adam added, “you’re welcome all the same.”

Then it was to a room full of small smiles that filtered in the strains of bilingual warnings of ‘dinner getting cold’, ‘Hoss eat _everything_ ’, and other such signs of end times fast approaching.  
So the three Cartwrights exited the guest room and shared the good news with the other Cartwrights already seated at the table. 

A proud middle brother, a wound-tight as-a-clock Hop Sing, and a beaming groom to be, all fit to be tied. Out of happiness. 

There was going to be a Ponderosa wedding that century after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s having way too much fun writing for these sensitive boys? Yep. It’s me!  
>  More good news: It looks like Joe’s out of his sling and doing great!


	22. Preparing For A Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guest list is always one of the most talked about preparations going into a wedding, so we get a nice little look at how the Cartwright’s are doing it!

Joe’s head just about spun at the flurry of excitement and pure _motion_ that it turned out folks were **happy** to put into making this wedding happen. 

Take his Pa, for example. Man was walking around like he was floating on air; going so far as to _personally_ see to it that his soon to be son in law had something fitting to wear while he was wed to his youngest son.  
Saddle tramp or no, no one marrying into _his_ family was going to say his vows dressed in his ‘finest’ trail clothes. End of discussion. 

So there’d come a day the head honcho of the Ponderosa himself hooked the red shirted ranch hand by the neck and dragged him off to town to have him ‘fitted’ for a decent suit. Something, it turned out, that complimented Joe’s freshly tailored one _perfectly_.  
Man, his pa had good taste in tailors. 

Aside from the senior Cartwright’s buoyant mood and generous contributions, there were also the many helping hands leant by Joe’s brothers. Such as Adam practically organizing the entire affair on his lonesome, loath to allow another soul a single drop of input.  
Thankfully, he allowed Joe to pick out the entertainment for the shindig. Otherwise there wouldn’t have _been_ any. 

Hoss and Hop Sing, as it turned out, were in collusion over the food that was to be served and planned the cooking of it to last over an entire day. Even though they weren’t likely to invite many folks for the-

“Welp,” said Hoss as he ambled in through the ranch house’s front door, catching the attention of more than one Cartwright lounging around the den. “I just found us _two_ more wedding guests. Practically invited themselves too,” he added with a note of pride. 

“What? R-really? Who?” Joe asked in a quick staccato. Setting his mystery novel on the coffee table as he straightened and set his feet on the floor. 

“Jody ‘n’ Amos. Overheard me tellin’ the five pound tin of chocolate powder it was gonna live out the rest of its life as a weddin’ cake and... oh, well, you can guess how it went from there,” Hoss finished, with just a hint of bashfulness. 

“Mmhm, that Jody used her stinging power of observation, and sharp wit to trick you into divulging the _happy_ family secret,” Adam ventured, a reassuring glance spared for his youngest brother. 

“Well, you guessed it alright,” Hoss said with a tiny grimace. “And it’s _exactly_ why I don’t like goin’ there on my own. That girl’s tougher’n nails and has a mind like a bear trap.”

“Ha! Way to pay a lady a compliment!” Joe cackled from his seat in the armchair. 

“It’s the most ‘complimentary’ I can be when it comes to that Jody-“

“Oh, well now, Hoss,” came a voice from the office space off to the side, over where Hoss hadn’t bothered so much as glancing since walking in. “I’ll have to let Amos know how high in your regard you hold his only daughter.” The voice of their pa had the middle brother cringing all over again. Strong as it was and playing at chipper in that ‘watch your step now’ way the father had long ago perfected.

“Oh, Pa, you know I didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” Hoss reasoned, hoping for mercy. 

“There may be _two_ weddings if he has any say in the matter,” responded an amused Ben Cartwright, hands clasped atop a small pile of papers on his desk. 

“No, Pa, you don’t understand; that Jody is a menace and she-“

“Was nice enough to RSVP to the invitations which I sent to her and her father _days_ ago. I only now received the answer,” the man behind the desk explained, holding up the topmost sheet of previously folded paper. Eyebrows raised in fond reproach. 

“You mean to tell me that Jody already _knew_ about... everything?” Asked Hoss, obviously at a loss over the whole situation, who then turned back to the living room to eye an especially entertained ‘Little’ brother of his. 

“Now don’t go harping on to your brother about not ‘warning’ you; it was Candy’s idea to invite them,” mollified the man happily riffling through the stack of papers before him. 

“Hey, wait a second. Just how many of those ‘RSVP’ letters you got there, Pa?” Asked a Joe who suddenly felt just as left out as he figured Hoss did. 

“Oh, just a few. The good news is, they’re all affirmatives,” Ben said with a flourish as he laid out a few sheets of paper of varying size, thickness, and color. Looking as if they'd originated from **very** different places. 

“Lemme see those-“

“Gol darn it, Pa, when were you gonna-“

“-it is _me_ getting married in front of all these people after all!”

“-come clean and show us the guest list?”

The man with all the proverbial cards chuckled at his sons’ ridiculousness as he watched them scramble across the room. Movements harried, as if they thought he might _eat_ the letters before they could see them for themselves.  
With a chuckle, he pushed the letters to the edge of the desk, in plain view, and said, “Oh, over dinner. _Tonight’s_ dinner. Within the next hour, but I don’t figure this pre-meal treat will spoil your appetite.”

Joe caught the twinkle in his pa’s eye as he and Hoss each snatched up a handwritten correspondence.  
“It says here that, ‘Doctor Rosebaum And Mister Rosebaum humbly accept your i-invitation and wish your family the best.” Joe found his hands shaking just the slightest bit as he read aloud, wondering as he did whether they’d ever be steady again, now that this wedding was really, irrefutably, _officially_ happening.  
It now had guests after all. A party couldn’t get more official than that. 

“This’n says, ‘Dear Mr. Cartwright,’ I wonder which of us they mean by that?” Mused Hoss with a scrunch of his face. “We are indeed well and we are all the weller at the wonderful news you have sent us. We will bring wine and spaghetti. Many happy regards to the grooms, the Rossi family.’ Well ain’t they somethin’?” Hoss asked as he set down the sheaf and picked up another.  
After about three seconds of scrutinizing the new one though, he turned it towards the man behind the desk accusingly. “This is a bill of sale, _not_ an RSVP.”

Joe chuckled along with their pa as Hoss flopped the offending paper back on the desk and picked up a less official document. 

“Hm. Well, looks like the Honorable Sheriff Roy Coffee’s gonna make it as well,” Hoss said, before turning to the den and shaking the paper in Adam’s direction. “None of this surprise you, oh eerily quiet brother of mine?”

“Hm? Oh, no. You see, dear, easily shocked brother of mine, it was _I_ who hand delivered the letters of invitation. I wasn’t leaving _anything_ to chance on this one,” Adam informed from his end of the day sprawl on the sofa. 

“Is _that_ why you’ve been ‘out’ so often recently?” Joe asked of the man who notoriously never took a break, but who’d up and vanished more than once in the last week to ten days. 

“See, Hoss, _someone_ was paying attention,” Adam said, in as playful a voice as the man in black possessed. Prompting a ‘face’ from the middle brother by the desk. 

“Yeah, well... _I’m_ helping make the cake, so you better climb off your high horse and soon mister, or-“

“Hoss, I _know_ you weren’t about to imply that you’d jeopardize the quality or safety of your **little brother’s _wedding_ cake**. Or am I somehow mistaken?” Ben asked. Face bordering on hard. 

Joe felt himself take a step back at his father’s stern words. At the suggestion that a member of his own family might do something so- so...  
“Hoss?” He couldn’t help asking, wishing his voice hadn’t come out so raw. Knowing there was nothing he could do about how big his eyes had grown, nor about how very, _very_ young he felt in that moment. 

“Joe, I didn’t mean it,” he heard his brother say, as he watched the man who stood **inches** taller than him set the forgotten letter on the desk and turn to him, face contrite. “Honest. I’d never do a **thing** to ruin your big day. Not to you and not to that fool fiancé of yours,” Hoss assured, grabbing his brother by both shoulders to be sure he heard every comforting word. 

Joe was almost ashamed by how much relief the earnest statement brought him. But all that self consciousness melted away when his bear of a brother engulfed him in a gentle hug. The big guy going so far as to rest his head _on top of_ Joe’s well kept curls. Where the shorter man felt a deep rumble as his brother began to speak, low and quiet and sincere. 

“I love you, Little-“

“ _Don’t_ call me tha-”

“-Joe,” Hoss finished despite the warning. 

“My, my,” said a familiar, colorful voice from off by the door no one had noticed someone open. “If it isn’t my _fiancé_ , huggin’ another man who claims to love him. I never thought I’d see the-“

“It’s not what it looks like!” Swore Hoss as he released his hug like Joe was a particularly hot potato. “Swear it! I’m the man’s brother!” 

“Oh, a likelier story I’ve never heard, siren of the deep!” Candy accused in an over the top way that perfectly mirrored Hoss’s ridiculousness. 

Joe ended up laughing so hard he just about doubled over. 

Before things could get any further out of hand, a voice of perpetual reason in Joe’s chaotic life cut through the good natured ribbing like the ringing of a dinner bell cut through the dust of a Ponderosa cattle drive.  
“Dinner ready! Get cold! Hurry, or everything all go bad!”

“Well, that’s the only _sensible_ thing I’ve heard all evening!” Ben declared as he rose from his desk and led the charge for the dining table covered in an absolutely mouth watering, Hop Sing prepared dinner. 

Must’ve been some of the chef’s finest work, Joe mused as he took his seat, for the taciturn cook took it upon himself to grace them with his presence and claimed the seat at the other end of the table as his.  
Not that his second paternal figure _didn’t_ sit with them often enough, just, for some reason, that evening, with the wedding shaping up to be something that was _actually going to happened_ , it felt like he was helping them celebrate their good fortune. 

So Joe had to suppress a smile all through dinner, just so food wouldn’t fall out his mouth while he ate. And that was alright with him, ‘cause he had his whole family there, joking and poking and having a good time around a table their pa had hand hewn back when Joe could barely walk.

If this wasn’t the good life, Joe thought as he glanced at his fiancé, sitting right next to him and looking like he was suppressing a smile of his own, then he guessed he’d find out pretty soon what _was_. After all: the two of them were getting married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering who in tarnation the Rossi family is:  
>  They make their first appearance on Bonanza in the episode Big Shadow On The Land, season 7, episode 29. They also make appearances in The Deed And The Dilema, season 8, episode 27, and in The Sound Of Drums, season 10, episode 10.  
>  The Rossi family is a mature mom and dad, and their teenage (or older) son and daughter who immigrated from Italy and made the trip west to settle in Nevada. 
> 
> Hope y’all enjoyed! Thanks for reading!


	23. The Final Fitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep. The guest list _exists_ and now the grooms even **know** about it!   
>  This is shaping up to be a fine wedding indeed!

When Candy’d walked in the Cartwright family home, ready for some high quality company and grub, and instead been greeted by the sight of his beau- his _fiancé_ locked in the tight embrace of another man, a man who’d just pledged his love to _Candy’s_ love... well, let’s just say the sight **hit** him.  
But when his eyes had finished adjusting to the inside lighting and he’d realized the ‘other man’ was Joe’s big brother Hoss, the spike of shock or maybe even worry or quite possibly fear, left him immediately and he put the ridiculous image out of his mind easily and completely.  
At least, after entertaining the entire room with a quip at Hoss’s expense. Was the least he could do for the guy, after all. 

Then, dinner was phenomenal —Candy knew because the chef stuck around to eat it _with_ them— and the game of checkers he won against Hoss afterward felt like sweet, sweet just deserts and a fine way to top off the night.  
The cherry on top came along in the form of Joe following him out as he bid the family fair well for the night and offering him a goodnight kiss. Which he took and exchanged for one of his own _quite_ happily. 

It wasn’t until after Candy crawled into his bunkhouse bed and the light was extinguished that he again, unbidden as the action may have been, thought of the disturbing image his eyes had stupidly seared into his impressionable brain: Joe in the tender embrace of a stranger, looking content and comforted. By someone who wasn’t _him_. Wasn’t Candy. 

The suddenly exhausted ranch hand rubbed hard at his face and heaved a sigh, sending up a silent prayer that he didn’t turn out to be one of those terrible husbands who was always suspicious of others’ intentions. He’d seen enough of them over the years to know that no one could be truly happy in a marriage like that.  
Besides, he _trusted_ Joe and, Candy realized as he shifted under his sheet, that was part of why the sight had been such an unexpected shock. He’d never even considered the possibility- the thought had never _hinted_ at occurring to him, that the man he loved... might be taken from him someday.  
Be it by someone smarter, more capable, or just plain _better_ than himself; or by some horrid twist of fate that left him bereft and alone. Like the time Joe saving _his_ sorry hide from a drunk’s malicious attempt on his life very nearly had. 

Candy shuddered and did his best to remind himself that Festus was going away for a very, **very** long time, and that Joe had made a full recovery _and_ had agreed to be loved, honored, and cherished by this red shirted saddle tramp till kingdom come. And Candy’d agreed he same back. 

The anxious groom to be gave another big sigh as he shifted around onto his side and-

“Go to sleep, Canaday!”

And received a wadded up shirt to the face. Which made him and then the entire bunk house laugh. _Definitely_ kept everybody up longer than if that oh so thoughtful someone had just left Candy to his melancholy business. But, that just wasn’t the way things worked in a bunkhouse. The way they _did_ work was that Candy was keeping that shirt until morning so he could figure out who’d thrown it and get his grizzly face back. Twice as hard. 

 

~

 

The morning after Candy’s tiny little pre-marital crisis, which he was pretty sure he’d worked completely through, Pa Cartwright rounded on him soon as breakfast was finished with and set a genial hand on his most accessible shoulder. 

“Ready for your final fitting?” The ominous question hit him between the eyes right when his brain decided to take a siesta. On account of being addressed by the head honcho himself. Which, in a disturbing turn of events, was happening more and more frequently these days. 

“Uh...” He must have sounded exceedingly intelligent right about then. 

“For the suit? For your wedding? Right around the corner?” Asked the senior Cartwright, sounding vaguely like he was attempting to engage in some lighthearted ribbing. Which only _nearly_ didn’t terrify the cornered ranch hand further. But at least he now remembered what the older guy was referring to. 

“Uh, yep- uh, that is: Yessir! Schedule’s cleaner’n a whistle,” Candy assured.

“Excellent,” _the_ Ben Cartwright said with a clap of his hands. “In that case, I say we saddle up and move out. No time like the present.”

“Absolutely! Couldn’t agree more,” said Candy, happy that his voice was evening out. 

“That’s the spirit! Now, let’s get going before anyone else tries to shirk work and tag along,” Pa Cartwright instructed, leading the both of them out the front door and back into town to the little tailor’s shop he’d introduced Candy to not ten days previous. 

 

~

 

It was only after a goodly while of standing like a statue and _occasionally_ being asked to lift an arm or reach forward that Candy was allowed to exit the textile lined workshop. The tailor ensuring him and his benefactor that he’d need only several minutes for the final adjustments and that he didn’t need his subject’s body for that part, so the lanky, fidgety guy was welcome to be restless **outside** if he’d rather.  
And _boy_ did Candy rather. 

So the Texan snatched his chance at liberation and pushed his way out the creaky front door and breathed in the considerably less fabric-y scents of an early afternoon in town.  
Then promptly lost his composure when a knock on wood sound warned him he’d been snuck up on. 

“You marryin’ the mister who done saved yer life?” The disembodied, _familiar_ voice of a child asked, all bluntness. 

Candy glanced beneath his feet, trying to peer through the tiny spaces between boardwalk planks, whence the sound had most certainly come.  
“What in Heaven or H-“

“Saw you wearin’ somethin’ mighty fancy when I peaked through the window. Ol’ man in there with ya? Figure he must be the other mister’s pa.”

“How would you know a lick about any of that?” Candy asked, feeling just a little like his privacy was being infringed upon. By a child hiding under a boardwalk. 

“I hear things; see things. Sometimes, I just _know_ things.” That last sentence just about gave Candy pause. “But this time, I done heard that Miss Jody, at the gen’ral store plannin’ out with her pa fer bein’ at yer weddin’. So I know just about e’rythang there _is_ to know ‘bout it.”  
That _did_ give Candy pause. And then an idea of dastardly proportions. 

“Well, I bet you don’t know nothin’ ‘bout the giant, _de_ licious chocolate cake that’s gonna be served,” he said in a self important voice. His own mouth beginning to water at the sumptuous reminder of tasty treats to come.  
“Nor the corn that’s gonna be boiled and popped, or the whole roasted chickens on platters, or-“ 

“Buck? Is that you under that **filthy** boardwalk?” A high voice cut through Candy’s food filled daydreams like a hot knife through butter, snapping his head in the direction of a woman taking quick, determined strides as she made her way across the street and right toward him.  
He looked down though when the munchkin hiding in the gloom below gasped, the sound followed closely by the pitter patter of an immediate, likely barefooted, retreat.  
“You come here this _instant_! You are missing reading hour and the English teacher is **very** disappointed in- Ah,” the lady broke off in an exasperated huff, just as she reached the walk and bent to peak under it. “There he goes again; never wants to spend a _second_ more indoors than it takes to sleep and sneak some breakfast,” the stranger finished as she straightened with a weary shake of her head. More than half sounding as if she was talking to herself. 

“Not exaggeratin’ just a hair there, Ma’am?” Candy asked, all politeness intact. Feeling some irresistible compulsion to poke his nose _exactly_ where it didn’t belong. 

“Were it only that I were!” The lady trilled just a tad louder than Candy thought necessary. “That child refuses every attempt that I or the other instructors put forth. I’d be surprised _indeed_ if the poor boy grows to be even passably literate,” she ended with a sniff that sounded equal parts frustrated and sad. 

“Can’t his folks talk some sense into him?” Candy asked. Just in case these ‘teachers’ had never thought of the possibility. 

“Kind sir, I instruct at the orphanage and that half wild child _has_ no parents.” She sobered for a moment and smoothed both hands over the front of her black dress before going on. “Unfortunately, I fear that he will continue to unless we can get him to see reason and apply himself. Few prospective parents are interested in a child that won’t cooperate.” She let out a huff and turned to face Candy fully, offering a polite nod and staying still long enough to say, “I must be back to the children. Good day,” before she was off. Heels clicking the opposite boardwalk as she hurried back the way she’d come and disappeared around a corner building. 

“Huh. Well I’ll be,” Candy said to himself. Wondering when it was the town had gone and gotten itself an orphanage.  
He thought about it and the fact that it had _teachers_ , of all things, hard enough that he twitched when the shop door opened behind him.

“Well, that went exceptionally, wouldn’t you say, Candy?” Asked his boss with a genial clap to one shoulder. 

“Uh...”

“Oh, that’s right, you’ve never been fitted before,” Ben said as he hiked the paper covered roll that no doubt housed Candy’s new ‘swanky duds’ over one shoulder. “Well, what did you think of the experience?” He asked with an open expression. 

“Uh, well, I’m not all that partial to standin’ ‘round doin’ nothin’ while somebody eyeballs me for fit-” Candy cut himself off and felt his eyes go wide when he remembered who it was he was talking to. “But I _sure_ am grateful to ya, Mr. Cartwright, for givin’ me the opportunity to find it out, a-and fer the fancy new suit,” he sputtered, hoping the gratefulness came through alright.  
He calmed a little when the man with the silver hair replied with a chuckle. 

“Is that so? Well, you’re not far off from Joe in that department. He doesn’t seem to mind being looked at, but the standing still practically does him in every time,” the father said as he began leading them away from the tailor’s. 

“Heh. Oh, Mr. Cartwright, where’re we goin’ next? I thought we needed to get back and help with-“

“Oh, they can handle the planning without us for a little longer,” the man leading them in a decidedly ‘not toward the stables’ way reasoned. “I figure, seeing as the fitting went so very smoothly, we have time on our hands for a beer. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Uh- Oh! Yessir, Mr. Cartwright, I couldn’t agree more!” The employee being treated to a morning on the town enthused. Meaning every word. 

 

~

 

So the two of them pulled up a couple chairs and fresh poured brews and Candy leaned forward to listen carefully as the man who was soon to be his father in-law waxed sentimental about his youngest son. And, though Candy knew it was probably a trick of the indoor lantern light mixing with the sun poring in from outside, it almost looked like Ben’s eyes misted up when the tough as nails patriarch mentioned the part where he’d been beginning to think _none_ of his sons was ever going to settle down.  
Either way, Candy wouldn’t have traded the conversation for anything, because it helped him realize, more so than he already had, just how much the man sitting in front of him truly loved his kids. Regardless the fact that each of them was both feet firmly into the adult portions of their lives. 

Candy didn’t figure anyone could blame them for the second round they ordered. When you consider one of them would be marrying off a member of their own flesh and blood come Sunday, God willing, and the other would never be a free man all the remaining days of his natural life.  
Funny thing though, thought Candy as he licked a little foam off his top lip, he wasn’t feeling the nerves some might expect of someone facing down the encroach of their ‘big day’. But that made perfect sense, considering that, so long as the person making an honest man out of him was Joseph Cartwright, that was _just_ the way he wanted it. 

So Candy raised his refilled stein in a silent toast to the end of his days as the man he’d known and welcomed the soon to be tied down, _happier_ version of himself into the world.  
After one more, ‘quick’ round of whistle wetting beers, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! Guess they can never have just one beer! Not with so momentous an occasion right around the corner anyway! To think of the two of them drinking together, before noon even? Cracks me up!  
>  Nice though that Candy gets a little bonding time with his fiancé’s pa!


	24. The Big Day

It wasn’t ten minutes after breakfast of the big day and Candy already knew he was gonna enjoy this Cartwright style wedding.  
Sure, he was trussed up like a Christmas Day turkey in his new, tailor sewn suit, but that wasn’t putting a damper on his spirits. Considering it at least felt like it fit well. And he kept catching Joe looking at him as if he needed to double take to believe it was really him. In a _good_ way.  
Looked like Mr. Cartwright had been right about the importance of a well fit suit after all. 

Yep. _That_ plus the early arrival of their first guests and Candy knew today was gonna be special. As promised. 

“Alright,” said Adam from where he was getting ready to start his self appointed job of party coordinator, “since the Rossi’s are here early, setting out the tables and chairs will be that much easier.”

Candy was just a little surprised when the group of overly punctual, obviously related folks nodded agreement and started right on in with Hoss, Mr. Cartwright, Hop Sing, and Adam; moving arms full of chairs from where they were stored when there was no use for them and out to where they’d planned on holding the whole shindig.  
What surprised him a whole heck of a lot more was the way Mama Rossi reacted when he moved to do his part. 

“You? No, poor thing.” Said with surprise and a goodly amount of sympathy. 

“Poor thing?” Candy asked, wondering if he’d really heard it right the first time. 

“Yeah, you been sick?” The mama with a hefty armful of chairs asked as she hitched them up and readied herself to carry the batch off. 

“Wha-“

“Don’t worry; you rest. Leave the work to the Rossi’s and the _healthy_ people.”

“Sí, save your strength for the wedding,” enthused a similarly sympathetic, younger version of Mrs. Rossi. Who Candy hadn’t caught the name of just yet. “You gotta have fun on your big day!”

And that was **that** , it turned out. The warm, concerned, Italian family shooed Candy away and flat out refused his help in even setting out cutlery and flatware.  
So Candy, knowing when he wasn’t wanted, meandered a ways off and found a nice fence to rest his ‘recovering’ frame atop. Being good and ‘saving his energy’ for greeting the other guests when they arrived.  
He heaved himself a big, deep sigh when he realized it might just be a while before anyone else showed up and therefore might be a while before he was _allowed_ to do more than mope around and watch the others have fun setting up for _his_ -

“Yeah, I wouldn’t let it get to ya.” Candy’s head jerked at the sound of... his fiancé talking to him from down on the grass on the other side of the low fence. Huh. Only surprised him because Joe was laying almost completely out of sight, in the shade of an exceedingly short and stout tree. Low hanging branches flared out in a way that gave it a vaguely ten gallon hat shape.  
“They never let me lend a hand either. Not even a _finger_ , come to think of it.”

“The Rossi’s?” Candy asked his lounging fiancé. Deciding as he did, that he didn’t want to sit on the uncomfortable wooden fence a moment longer. So he slipped off the opposite side and ducked to make his way over to Joe’s relaxed recline. 

“Mmhm. I don’t understand it myself, but for some reason, they all seem to think I’m sickly,” Joe said as Candy navigated his way under all the twigs. 

“That’s what the mama said to me- to _me_!” Said Candy as he lowered himself to a sit by the unperturbed Cartwright side. “I’m healthy as a horse; strong as an ox!”

“And skinny.”

“Huh?” Asked Candy as he studied the lidded eyes of the man no doubt rumpling his suit jacket, laying on the ground like he was. 

“It’s what they say, anytime they see me. ‘So skinny,’ or, ‘If you eat more, maybe you get your strength back, poor thing,’ or how about, ‘Your brothers don’t let you work with the cows, do they?’ That whole family seems to think I’d fall apart at the seams at the _threat_ of a hard day’s work.”

As displeased as the thought of _any_ one putting down the man he was about to marry got him, Candy knew that if it really bugged Joe, the guy would have done something about it by now.  
Come to think of it, kinda looked like he _had_. Maybe even taken **advantage** of it, judging by the worry free time he’d managed to carve out of a hectic morning.  
“Is that how come I found you sleepin’ under an overgrown bush? ‘Cause yer guests think you’re skinny?”

Starting with a snort, Joe cracked an eye open and raised a brow. “Eh. I figure, that’s why you came to _join_ me under this ‘overgrown bush’.”

“Hm. Fair ‘nough,” said Candy as he laid himself down in the ever so slightly dewed, fine grass that grew near the roots. A place where sunshine rarely ever broke up the calm cool of the unsullied earth. 

Shoulders nuzzled against each other, the pair lay there, in the shade of that sombrero shaped tree, and listened to the little birds make twittering noises up in the midst of the twigs. Hoping they didn’t get any bird droppings on their suit fronts for their troubles.  
Though, if they _had_ , it would have been worth it for the uninterrupted time they had to themselves, quietly breathing the smell of the sparse growing wild flowers and accidentally dozing off to the feel of a pleasant breeze rustling their hair as well as the bird filled leaves above. 

When Candy snorted awake, it was to the feeling of Joe hurrying to a sit and inadvertently brushing his shoulder in the process. 

“The Rosebaums’re here!” 

Candy heard shouted from the direction of the house, in the baritone boom of the biggest brother on the ranch. 

“Let’s go say hi,” Joe said with a smile that spoke both of anticipation and nerves. 

“Last one there gets a checkup,” Candy challenged as he rolled up into a crouch and took off for the front drive. 

 

~

 

Joe had yet to meet the doctor, counter to both his own and her wishes on the matter. For, though the doctor had wanted to make it, the drive out to the ranch house from town was nothing to sneeze at, and her office was anything but short on patients, so she had sent letters back and forth with Adam and Hop Sing and had overseen Joe’s recovery in that fashion.

Rather a crude way to go about it, she had commented in one such letter, but effective and safe enough, considering there was more than one individual versed in the art of practical medicine residing on the premises.

So it had been Hop Sing who removed the handful of stitches from Joe’s scalp, and who had decided when the sling was no longer necessary, and it had been Adam who kept Dr. Rosebaum apprised of the situation and assured her that nothing worrying was afoot.  
To everyone’s utter relief, the prognosis of a full recovery had indeed been accurate. 

And now physician and patient were meeting face-to-face for the first time since the fateful incident which had taken place over one month previous and nearly claimed the lives of two, since fiancéd, cowhands. 

“With only your eyes, please follow my finger. Good. Now, please touch your index finger to your nose.” Strangely enough, the first words the doctor spoke as she disembarked the rented day buggy which Hoss was already offering to put up for her husband.  
Candy would have thought a party guest might want to start with a... _very_ different greeting. ‘Hi,’ for example. Or perhaps, ‘good day’. Maybe even, ‘congratulations’. 

Eh, Candy thought as he watched the doc doing her thing, Joe seemed to be enjoying it, so to each their own.

“Povero piccolo Giuseppe!” Came a sudden exclamation which drew all eyes as a quick stepping Mama Rossi led her family around the house. No doubt so the group of Rossi’s could help out with welcoming the new guests, Candy thought with a good natured shake of the head. Rethinking the notion when he realized that all four of them had on their concerned expressions. 

“We knew there must be something wrong when we didn’t see you this morning!” Said Mr. Rossi. Confirming Candy’s observation. 

“And now we _know_ that it is true!” Claimed the younger Mr. Rossi.

“A _physician_? Oh, what is wrong, mio caro?” Demanded Mrs. Rossi. 

“Is there anything that we can do to help?” Asked the younger Miss Rossi.

“There is no need for alarm,” informed the doctor as she nodded at her patient. Letting him know that the exam was complete.  
“The injuries are not fresh.”

“But he looks so unwell!” Claimed Mama Rossi as she and her family came to a stop within optimal scrutinizing distance. “You can practically see his ribs!” She said with a pointed gesture toward Joe’s well fitted jacket.

To that, Candy nearly spoke up with the full intention of correcting the inflammatory remark, but the stalwart Dr. Rosebaum beat him to it.  
“Joseph was brought into my office with a blunt force head injury and a badly sprained arm, but his family has treated him well and I am pleased to say that he is now just as healthy as before the terrible incident.“

“Terrible incident? What ‘terrible incident’?!” The papa demanded. Looking like he was worried whatever it was might decide to happen again. To _him_ this time. 

“Stepped in front of a speeding horse,” Joe offered when the professional sawbones didn’t. 

“Saved my life doin’ it too,” Candy added. Not willing to have that part of the story left out. 

“Oh, it sounds _terrible_ , i miei piccoli,” said Mrs. Rossi. Hands over her mouth in shock. 

“Oh, it _was_ terrible!” Spoke up Mr. Rosebaum. “I heard it from the tailor’s roof. Such a fearsome noise,” he said with a shudder. Then he straightened to make tentative eye contact with the worried Italian family.  
“I sat with him all night. I just couldn’t sleep after...” Trailed off the poor man who seemed to have gone two shades greener at the reminder of that unfortunate day. 

“Yes, my sweet,” said Dr. Rosebaum as she turned to her husband. “I remember well.” Then, before saying more, she took him in a tender embrace. Prompting him to lean down ever so slightly, so as to bring his ear closer to her. “It is one of the reasons that we are here today; so that you may see for yourself that your diligence and your caring attention were not in vain.”  
Then she released her husband and, with a glance around and in a more conversational tone, offered her final say on the matter. “Joseph is fine. I guarantee it.“ 

The doctor’s small smile at the end turned out to be the last nail in that particular coffin. After that, there was no further mention of ill health, nor any pitying looks for the youngest Cartwright boy.  
Sure, Joe _and_ Candy were offered seats **frequently** by the well meaning Rossi family, but nothing was said against the two of them joining in the games and festivities, so they counted it as a victory all the same. 

 

~

 

The sheriff Roy Coffee put up his horse without bothering anyone for a hand, and slipped into the party without pomp nor circumstance. Claiming he liked it that way just fine. 

“Better’n folks makin’ fools of ‘emselves on my behalf,” he’d said with a shake of his head as he’d taken his seat in the lone rocking chair in the shade of the back porch.  
Right near the horseshoe arena a few Cartwrights had spent a while putting together the previous day. 

 

~

 

The arrival of Jody and Amos changed the atmosphere from that of a quaint get together to something akin to a full on fiesta. What with them bringing firecrackers and plenty of matches to ‘burn the house to the ground’, as Adam had put it. As he’d grabbed the two, blessedly _separate_ packages from their freshest guests with a tight ‘smile’. For safe keeping, until such time as they had a designated area cordoned off for such tomfoolery.  
And plenty of water on hand. Just in case. 

“Well, Jody, if you haven’t shown up in the finest couture of France. I never known you to dress up quite so well,” Candy said as the two of them shook their heads in amusement at the sight of Adam spiriting away the ‘dangerous’ party favors. 

“Why thank ya, Candy, but these duds are older’n _me_ and you could tell just by **lookin’** ‘em. You, on the other hand, are looking slicker than a greased pig. Where’d ya go and get a fancy suit like that?“

“Hm, the secrets of the fortunate, my dear Jody,” Candy said with as much of a puff as he could put in his chest. 

“Fortunate? Don’t wanna tell me? I’ll betcha it’s a hand me down from... Mr. Cartwright then,” Jody said with as scrutinizing a look as she owned. Eyes sharp and searching under her head of dark curls. 

“Well, you got _part_ right,” Candy informed. Inspecting his fingernails in an aloof manner. Giving it a few seconds before going on. “The suit _is_ a gift from Mr. Cartwright, but it’s no hand me down. No, I had to do a whole peck of standin’ still for this here beaut,” he said, finishing with a little quarter turn he knew showed off the cut of his new pants _just_ right.  
Confirmed by the way Joe was distracted from his conversation with Amos by the sight. Nearly missing the ‘congratulations’ part of the friendly greeting. 

“Hm. Does look fresh from the tailor,” Jody conceded. “‘Cept for the grass stuck in the collar,” she said, a quick hand reaching up to snag a few wayward blades of the unwanted green stuff.  
“Mine’s a hand-me-down, but you won’t catch me complainin’, no _Sir_ ,” Jody said with a shrug that happened to emphasize the cut of her jacket shoulders. Reminding Candy that she was indeed wearing what appeared to be a well touched up, used suit. One that most likely had belonged to her pa. Now passed on to her for it being obviously far too small for the man, in his current stage of life. 

“I can see why, you tall drink o’ water you,” Candy said with the help of a conspiratorial eyebrow wiggle. 

“Ha! I’m just glad the folks on the town church committee stopped all their harpin’ on about how walking around with yer walkers on display ain’t ‘ladylike’,” Jody said in a rather... long suffering tone. 

“You mean folks was givin’ you a hard time about you wearin’ _pants_?” Candy asked. A mite incredulous. 

“Yep. Seems they don’t want ‘women folk’ wearin’ ‘man clothes’. Don’t know how they figure.”

“I’d’a thought they had better things to be doin’ than harassin’ shop keepers about a silly thing like fashion.”

“Welp,” Jody started, hands on her hips and a wry look on her face, “like I said: Don’t know how they figure.”

The sound of approaching footsteps caught Candy’s attention well enough that he didn’t miss when another voice spoke up.  
“Oh, who is this, Candy?” Asked the youngest member of the Rossi family. With a smile which Candy and Jody saw soon as they turned some to see who’d made the inquiry. 

“Oh, this here’s my good friend, Jody. Jody Freeman,” Candy said as the young lady in the party dress came to a stop right by them. “And, Jody, this is...” Candy trailed off, not able to stop his eyes from going wide as he found himself unable to finish the introductions.  
After all, how _could_ he introduce her when he still hadn’t heard **any** of the Rossi’s-

“My name is Regina. It’s a pleasure,” said the youngster who it turned out was perfectly happy to introduce herself. 

“No, the pleasure is all mine, Ma’am,” Jody insisted. Taking the offered hand and planting a playful kiss on the knuckles. 

“Want to play a game of chess?” Said the Signorina Regina with a gesture toward the games table. And just the smallest hint of a blush. 

“Nothin’ would please me better,” Jody assured. 

And that left Candy standing around by his lonesome. Forgotten, like so much dirt under a freshly shined shoe.  
That is, until a certain soon-to-be-wed somebody took him by the elbow and pulled him off to the side. Ducking them around the corner of the big house and only stopping when they were thoroughly out of sight of the party and its freshly grown number of guests. 

“Enjoying our big day?” Joe asked as he huddled them close to the wall. Getting them into the almost shade of the high roof’s eaves. 

“‘Bout as much as can be expected,” Candy said, feigning disappointment. Which got him a snort. 

“Well, Hoss said he and Hop Sing are gonna set out the food about now,” Joe said in a knowing tone. 

“Ah, well in _that_ case, I’m having an exceptional time, Mr. Cartwright,” Candy said with a stuffy affectation. Hoping it reminded Joe of that book they’d read together. The satire. The _romantic_ satire. 

“Oh? Well that’s too bad, Mr. Canaday,” Joe responded in his own version of a high society voice. “Seeing as I brought you all the way over here thinking you might like a kiss to cheer you up. But,” he said with a shrug, “if you’re already having a good-“

When Joe began to turn, as if to head back to the party, Candy’s closer hand darted out and closed around a black gloved one. Stopping his fiancé gently.  
“Now, Mr. Cartwright, whoever said I wasn’t lonely?” He asked with as pathetic an expression as he could muster. Not able to keep it on his face when his fiancé interlaced their fingers.  
Outright smiling when Joe leaned forward and brought their foreheads together. Nearly bumping the hats off their heads in the process. 

“My mistake, Mr. Canaday,” said Joe, before pushing that last bit closer to the man for once **not** in red. Bringing them to the perfect distance for kissing.  
And when they did, neither of them needed affectation to enjoy the way their lips locked together. Like they were trying to keep a secret. One they’d gladly guard with their lives.  
One neither of them had any intention of ever letting another soul in on. No soul, that is, but the one belonging to the man they were about to share with in a good old fashioned ‘I doing’. 

“ _Now_ are you enjoying our big day?” Joe asked as he brought his forehead against Candy’s once more. 

“Absolutely.” All the reassurance the mock concerned fiancé needed.  
Didn’t stop him from pushing a perplexed Candy right up against the side of the house and kissing him a second time. 

When they broke apart again, Candy saw the mischievous look in his intended’s eyes. And the way his lips curled up at the corners when he moved them to say, “Just making sure.”

The ensuing cackling nearly got them found out by an oldest brother who informed them that it was time for lunch and that they’d better not keep Hoss and Hop Sing waiting. 

They followed right quick at the mention of food. Candy smiling when he realized they were hurrying back to the party hand in hand.  
Already acting like a happily married couple. 

How ‘bout that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ‘conversation’ between Candy and Mrs. Rossi near the beginning of this chapter is in reference to one Mama Rossi and Joe have in Big Shadow On The Land (the family’s first appearance) which I found hilarious and which has stuck with me ever since. :D


	25. Parson Brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the big day, everyone is enjoying themselves, the priest is set to arrive any minute, and Ben Cartwright couldn’t be happier. After all, one of his boys was _finally_ getting married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first Ben centric chapter in the whole story! Hope he reads true to character! :D

The last several days leading up to the wedding of his youngest son and his youngest son’s betrothed went by in a smooth, well calculated rush.  
Aside, of course, from the one too many beers he and said betrothed had indulged in on their way out of town the day he’d escorted the fellow to the tailor’s to oversee the final fit of the new suit. 

The remainder of the preparations went smoothly enough that the big day completely crept up on Ben and before he knew it, he was among a boisterous crowd of wedding guest, indulging in a friendly game of horseshoes with any and all foolish enough to think they could _possibly_ outscore the father of the groom.  
So, really just the groom with the pie in the sky hopes at the moment. 

Ben felt his heart jump as a call went up from the small congregation of party goers. When he turned though, from where he’d been about to beat Joseph’s score with an excellent toss, his anxieties eased and a smile came easily to his face. 

The priest was there. Or _nearly_ so, anyway. 

Shaking his head at the ‘whippersnappers’, as his good friend Roy Coffee scoffingly referred to the suddenly scampering guests, Ben aced his toss and made to follow the mass exodus at a _reasonable_ pace. Roy choosing to continue sitting in the sturdy rocking chair from which he had been more than happy to keep score of their friendly party game while they waited for the arrival of-

“The priest’s here, Pa! We’re really gonna have us a wedding!” Informed the, excitable on a normal day as it was, youngest member of Ben’s family. Not stopping his ridiculous, perfectly understandable, race to greet the approaching guest of honor. 

Ben directed his gaze above the bobbing heads to get a good look at this famed Rivera. Sat atop a donkey, holding the reigns of a simple, bitless, rope halter as the two of them came slow and steadily closer and closer. Perhaps not an imposing sight, but an impressive one none the less.  
No less so for the fact that, unless the donkey was inordinately short, their priest was of about average height and no stouter nor stronger than most. Clad in colors befitting the profession and the travel required for this particular brand of service: browns and blacks complimenting each other on the churchly robe without appearing ostentatious, nor slovenly. 

The donkey didn’t miss a step as it and its rider were swallowed up by a swarm of well wishers and Ben mused that the stalwart creature was indeed the perfect mount for their guest. Sure of foot, even of temperament, and not so far off the ground as your average mule or horse.  
Dependable, and perfect in every way for a blind member of the cloth. One who was currently receiving one of the most raucous, joyous greetings that Ben had ever seen a priest receive. 

As the donkey continued down the path, not dissuaded from its task for a moment, the reception committee kept pace with it and apprised its passenger of _every_ detail of the party; from the position of the tables and chairs, and the party games scattered about, to the fragrant spread of delicious food there was still _plenty_ of. 

Their mail order Parson Brown thanked them for the welcome and dismounted right in front of a hitching post that sported a trough of cool water. Ben noted with raised brows that the _animal_ had been the one to stop _itself_ precisely close enough that its rider had no issue securing it. 

Come to think of it, Ben mused as he gave the back of his head a scratch, the strange creature had been following the dirt path with very little nudging from the priest who was just about finished removing a long walking stick from a holder along its side.  
Strange donkey. 

Once the **well** welcomed stranger had assured the committee that navigating would be no problem thanks to their thoughtful descriptions, Ben walked forward and introduced himself to the person the entire wedding had been holding its collective breath for.  
“I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to officiate for us, “ said as the proudest pa on the whole Ponderosa shook the hand of the only Parson Brown in the territory whispers had it would perform marriage services to _any_ consenting adults, regardless of belief, familial wealths, or race. Be they woman and man, or otherwise. 

“It brings me great joy to unite those in love in the holy union of marriage,” said as the priestly figure shook the hand back with an appreciative nod. 

“Well, considering the circumstances, I thank you again, and that won’t be the last time,” Ben Cartwright promised with an eye crinkling smile, as he released the hand shake. With one more, thankful pump. 

“The Lord blessed me with blindness,” started the one with a little bible hanging by a string from around a neck that Ben couldn’t help but note lacked a prominent Adam’s apple, “and I chose to interpret that gift to mean I was meant to judge not with my eyes, but with my heart.”

“I expect I’m not the only one to be impressed by your interpretation...”  
Realizing he was at a loss as to how to address his son’s one and only hope at a properly officiated wedding, Ben took a moment to look a little more closely at the traveling priest before him. Noting the smattering of graying hair around the individual’s temples, not at all dissimilar to the way that Adam had visibly matured through his time abroad, but that the other signs typical of a face beginning to age seemed... absent. At least, if one were judging against your average _Señor_ ’s face.  
At that thought, Ben felt his cheeks heat and was grateful that the others had left them as soon as the introductions had concluded.  
“Uh, pardon me, this is, heh, quite embarrassing, but, uh, is it ‘Sister’ or ‘Brother’ Rivera?” Ben asked in a self-conscious manner, after what he realized had been a rather protracted pause. 

“There’s no reason for embarrassment at all,” the one in the rather flat fronted, well worn robe assured. “In fact, I prefer ‘Friar’, and I see myself not so much as either a woman or a man, but simply as a servant of the Lord, here to help as I can.”

“Well, rather unorthodox, perhaps,” Ben began with a pleasantly perplexed look about him, “but unorthodox is _precisely_ what today is all about. So, once again, I thank you, Friar Rivera, for coming all this way.”

The friar smiled, gave a nod, and moved off in the direction of the food table, having been assured that there was plenty for all, walking stick grazing the ground ahead as they went. Wary of rocks and prairie dog holes. Obstacles just as easily missed by sighted individuals. Especially ones giddy with anticipation of a good meal. 

With confidence in the priest’s prior assurances that they could get around just fine, Ben turned back to the fun and games section of the party and prepared himself to finish off- that is, finish his _friendly_ round of horseshoes against the only person there fool enough to think they could beat him. 

“Oh, Friar, is it?” Ben heard his eldest ask. “I’m Adam, and I can’t thank you enough for making yourself available for Joe and Candy’s service.” Ben glanced over to see the two shaking hands by the food table. Realizing as he did, and especially so when the Friar gave a thanks right on back for having been invited so cordially, just how much of this shindy was Adam’s doing. 

With pride swelling in his chest, the father finished making his way to the horseshoe arena and wiped that cocky look off his youngest son’s face in no time flat. Firmly re-establishing himself as the family’s- nay, the _territory's_ champion shoe tosser.  
He gave Joe a big hug to cheer the misguided sportsman after that brutal defeat. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Cartwright and...?” Asked the friar Rivera as the father and son finished their little celebratory embrace. 

“Joe Cartwright,” Joe said, accepting the hand that was offered. 

“It is a privilege to be here with your family on such a glorious day. I thank you for having me,” the friar said with a face that looked like it meant it. 

“Uh, the pleasure’s ours. _Really_ , Candy and I can’t thank you enough for making the trip,“ Joe said with more earnestness than Ben had heard in his son’s voice in quite some time. 

“It is my pleasure, and Ezekiel is always willing, so long as he gets his carrots at the end of the day,” Rivera said, nodding off in the direction of the well behaved donkey. 

“We’ll be sure to get him some carrots before the service,” Ben assured, making a mental note to ask someone soon. 

“I thank you, Mr. Cartwright, but there is no rush. Ezekiel is a patient animal.”

“Oh,” Ben said, not sure what to follow that with. Thankful when the friar _did_. 

“I heard a game of horseshoes?”

“Oh, right! We have it set up with a rope so it’s easy to find the shoes and the toss line,” Joe said, a might _excitedly_. “Learned to play it that way myself, few years back.”

“Are you too deficient of sight?” Asked the friar, looking as if they might be studying Joe, with the limited sight they may or may not have possessed, for signs of blindness. 

“I was,” Joe both confirmed and corrected. “Explosion. Had a teacher from a school for the blind who taught me that sight wasn’t what made me who I am. She got me back on my feet and into the world again,” Joe explained. A melancholic look strong with reminisce reminding Ben all too well of those few months and just how hard they’d been on his youngest. 

“But you’ve regained your sight?” Asked Rivera, face tinged with wonder. 

“Yeah. One morning... I could see again, and that was that.”

“A miracle if ever I heard one,” the friar said, making the shape of a cross on their front and punctuating the action with a quick kiss to the closed fingers of the same hand. “And here we are today to pay homage to yet another. It sounds to me that your life is truly a blessed one, Mr. Joe Cart-“

“Just ‘Joe’ is _fine_ ,” Joe cut off the well-intentioned priest. Causing Ben to smile at his son’s distaste for formality. 

“Joe, then. Your family is truly blessed,” Friar Rivera assured with a benevolent smile. 

“I always knew there was something special about us,” Joe said with a playful lilt that had both the grownups chuckling. “Now, how ‘bout blessing us with your hand in a round of horseshoes?”

“I’d be delighted,” said their new player, with an eager nod. 

Ben still won, by several points, but his competitive side was put in check somewhat by the presence of someone who very well may have spoken directly to the Lord every morning and night. After all, most church types weren’t much ones for sports. Though, the friar surprised him just a hair by beating Joe’s score rather soundly. 

Thankfully, when Ben looked over to check his youngest’s face, he found that losing had done nothing to sour the soon to be wed’s mood. If anything, it looked as if the friar beating him had only reinforced what he’d learned through his time living without sight. That being blind did not mean that you were useless. And that sometimes, the blind leading the blind was exactly what the doctor ordered. 

Yes, thought the pa not so long later, as he watched his son and his son’s best friend turned fiancé position themselves before the congregation of friends and family, following the friar’s instructions with a just visible hint of self-consciousness, Rivera was indeed exactly what the doctor had ordered.  
He’d have to thank the priest again after the vows. And Adam for sending the invitation, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Joe mentions having been blind himself he is making reference to one of my all-time favorite episodes of Bonanza titled The Stillness Within, season 12 episode 24.  
> I absolutely couldn’t resist when I saw an opportunity to slip mention of it into the story, so please feel free to ignore the show’s timeline when it comes to that reference, if it pleases! :D


	26. A Little Piece Of Marie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the wedding festivities continue!

“By the power vested in me by the Divine Spirit, I now pronounce you joined in the union of holy matrimony. You may kiss your husband.”

Joe held back a grin as he and Candy leaned in for the first kiss of their married life. Unendingly entertained by how chaste it was compared to the ones they’d shared just earlier, around the side of the house. Him pushing Candy against the wall and enjoying the feeling of having him close. 

The two of them moved apart with a blush as they realized it had also been their first public kiss. As they turned toward the crowd of seated guests, Joe didn’t let himself get melancholy over the thought that it would also have to be one of the very, very rare ones, if they didn’t want to draw unwanted attention. After all, who ever heard of a man kissing another man? Or a girl kissing another girl for that matter, Joe wondered with an oversized smile as he caught sight of Jody Freeman dipping Regina Rossi from their seats at the back of the crowd. Sharing in a celebratory kiss of their own. 

Joe’d have to remember to rib Jody about it the next time he went to the mercantile. And maybe congratulate her too. 

Shifting his gaze to the front seats, Joe’s smile grew impossibly wider at the sight of not one, but _four_ parents dabbing at their eyes in what appeared to be overwhelming happiness.  
Ben and Hop Sing to one side, and Giorgio and Maria Rossi hugging each other on the other. 

A row behind them, Dr. Rosebaum handed her husband a kerchief to blow his nose, and a teary eyed Hoss clapped loud enough for him _and_ their oldest brother, who was sitting there with his arms and legs crossed in a lounging, self satisfied sort of ‘told you so’. 

Lorenzo and Amos looked happy too. Where they were seated and sharing meatballs from a plate the Rossi boy had brought from the food table.  
And Coffee was still happy as a pig in... Well, the sheriff was content sitting over in the shade of the back porch in that rocking chair he’d only stood from to grab some food earlier.  
He gave a wave when he noticed Joe looking at him. 

With a chuckle, Joe looked back to his newly minted husband in his smart suit, wearing a ring that matched the one the Texan ranch hand had slipped on his own ungloved hand, and smiled almost painfully bigger when he saw just how _happy_ Candy was. 

“Give ‘im another kiss! Don’t be shy!” Shouted an overexcited Jody, who Joe was pretty sure just wanted an excuse to kiss Miss Regina again. But when Hoss and even their _pa_ insisted on the same, Candy turned to him with a shrug and a wry smirk. 

“Better give the people what they want,” suggested the man Joe figured he’d never mind kissing a second time. 

As he leaned in, Joe let the reality sink in that this was **real**. The wedding, the guests, the priest, his _husband_ kissing him for all the world to see? All real.  
And as Joe pulled back to look his future in the beaming face, he knew his ma would have been proud. If only she’d... If only she could have been there to share in the celebrat-

He and Candy and probably the entire congregation gave a start when a call went above the cheers and jeers of the seated crowd.  
It sounded almost like the scream of a wildcat. If a wildcat could manage sounding enthused as well as bloodcurdling. 

“Now _this_ is what I call a wedding!” Shouted a figure standing shrouded in the shade of the house, holding the reigns of a sweat lathered horse and breathing heavily. 

“Mister, this here’s a _private_ get-together,” said the only person at the party packing heat as he jumped from his rocking chair and put a hand near his service pistol. Spooking both the interloper and the played out mount well enough that the reigns got dropped and the exhausted animal bolted off. 

Was this the exact reason Coffee’d decided to sit apart from everyone else? Joe wondered in that moment of frozen silence where he could see the whites of just about everyone’s eyes.  
Roy’d elected himself security for the party? Had he been _expecting_ uninviteds? Who in the world even _was_ that sweat drenched- 

“Clay? I was wondering when you’d show up!” Proclaimed an Adam it sounded like was trying to de-escalate a potentially explosive- Wait. Had he said-

“Clay?!” I-it’s not _possible_ ,” argued Joe as he squinted to make out a face beneath the stranger’s black hat brim. 

“Oh, it’s plenty possible, Little Joe,” said the man Coffee was still primed to do something about if he turned out unfriendly. Right before he stepped into the full light of the warm sunshine and gave a bashful though unrestrained smile. 

“You know this varmint?” Asked the sheriff who’s hand hadn’t backed an inch farther from his pistol. Though, to his credit, neither had it moved closer. 

“Yes, Roy, he’s family,” assured Ben from where he was levering himself from his seat. Perhaps with the intention of welcoming their new guest.  
Something that Joe was already _way_ ahead of him for. 

“It _is_ you!” Joe declared as he came within spitting distance, making sure not to slam right into the man as he pulled him into a tight embrace. 

“Yes, it is.” The surprise guest agreed with a chuckle, as he returned the hug. “But I’m not sure it’s really _you_ , Little Joe. Weren’t you about knee-high to a grasshopper last time I blew through?” 

“No, your memory must be getting foggy in your old age,” Joe said as he gave a chuckle of his own and let himself be held out at arms length. 

“Let me get a good look at you,” Clay asked as he scrutinized the man between his hands. “Yep. Same goofy smile. This most certainly _is_ my Little-” The clearing of a throat from one side cut off the rest. 

“Uh, Joe, ain’t ya gonna introduce us?”

“Oh, r-right! I got a little carried away- Uh, Candy, this here is Clay Stafford. My-my older brother by my- _our_ mother. And Clay, this here is my best friend- my _husband_ , Candy Canaday.” Joe barely got through the introductions. Halfway through he’d started to shake as he watched the two being introduced size each other up. Like professional boxers about to enter the ring, each aware there was a hefty purse on the line. 

After a protracted moment, both assessing faces broke into matching grins. “Well, I’ll be,” said the ranch hand as he offered their newest guest a welcoming handshake, “I’d heard tell of a long lost brother, but I never thought we’d have the pleasure of meetin’.”

“I’m sorry to hear it; I’d plans to swing by again to chew the fat with my closest living kin sooner,” Clay said as he accepted the offered hand. “Guess it just took a wedding to get my sorry self out here,” he added, with more than a hint of contrition. 

“Well, sometimes that’s just how life works,” Candy said with a crinkle to his eyes as he eased over a step to sling an arm around his newly wed. “What matters most is that you made it when it _really_ matters.”

“Thanks, Mr. Canaday. That means a lot coming from my Little brother’s... husband- It’s hard to believe you’re married already!” Clay exclaimed with a shake of his head. “The youngest on any side of the family, no matter how you slice it, and _still_ married first. Wow.”

Joe did his best not to squirm as the brother he hadn’t seen in what felt like half a lifetime just stood there and... _looked_ at him. Like he really couldn’t believe it was him standing there.  
Hm. Maybe it was the fancy duds. Or the husband draped over his shoulders. After all, Clay’d never met Candy before and Joe was pretty sure he hadn’t mentioned him in any of the sparse letters he and his older brother had exchanged over the years. Especially since he’d been particularly hard to find an address _to_ send a letter to for the last few. 

Joe looked to his side when the arm around his shoulders tightened in a sort of one armed hug.  
“Well, looks like the two of you have some catching up to do,” Candy started as he disentangled himself from the newlywed Cartwright. “I think I’ll go help the other brothers bring out the cake.” Before he made to leave though, the ranch hand in the brand spanking new suit reached out and shook his groom’s half brother’s hand a second time.  
“Again, Mr. Stafford, thank you for bein’ here.” 

Joe watched with a sort of fondness he’d never known before meeting the man, as Candy, a big smile on his face when he took a backwards glance, walked off for the kitchen’s rear entrance. 

“I only just met him, but it looks like you snagged yourself a keeper, Little Joe.” The arm Clay then settled across the shorter man’s shoulders helped Joe miss the presence of Candy’s a little less. 

“This doesn’t... upset you?” Joe asked, finally looking back at his brother as his best friend disappeared inside the ranch house. Realizing as he did that he’d been worried about what exactly the ‘stranger’ with the horse thought since Clay’d loosed that introductory wildcat scream. 

“Oh, I grew up in the French quarter, mon Petit Joseph,” Clay said, affecting a Cajun accent. “Anything you can do, they can do **louder**. Streamers, a parade, kissing in the streets and... well, ‘pub crawls’ until the constabulary have to help them on their merry ways home.”

The two of them shared a laugh at the image that conjured.  
“So, you’re _happy_ about... all this?” Joe asked, gesturing around at all the friends, family, and guests laughing and tossing horse shoes or dunking their heads for apples. Back to merry making now that the quiet part of the party was over. 

“Well, Joe, the only one you need to worry about being happy at this soirée is _you_.” The man- _brother_ Joe’d never thought he’d see again assured with a familiar pat to the shoulder. “ _And_ that dandy of a husband you got yourself, of course,” Clay added with a pointed, wry smile. “Family and friends being happy is a bonus,” he tacked on as the afterthought he insisted it was. But when Joe kept up the expectant look, the brother in the black hat started once more. “Of course I’m happy for you, mon petit frère. I’m only _un_ happy that I didn’t darken your doorstep sooner.”

“How _did_ you-“

“Get here?” Clay finished for the groom. “Oh, hopped a train, soon as I got the invitation. Had a little business to wrap up first, I must admit,” he said with a sour face. “Otherwise I’d’a gotten here ‘bout this time yesterday. Would’a made it for the vows and ceremony, if I had my way. But I s’pose I should be thankful I saw the ‘I do’s’ and the kissin’.” A smile brightened up his face then and he chuckled with a shake of his head. “Some of your guests got in the kissin’ spirit too. Was quite the sight for travel weary eyes.”

The two chuckled and cut twin glances over to the pair settled at either end of a checker board at a table set aside for such games. The youngster in the suit reaching one, casual hand under the table and acting surprised when it ‘happened’ to bump into the corresponding, unoccupied one belonging to Miss Regina Rossi.  
There was nothing premeditated though about the look of surprise that overtook Jody’s face when her opponent took the hand in her own with a quirk of the brow and a coquettish smile. 

The way the young Italian made the hard working, no nonsense manager of their local mid-sized mercantile blush... well, Joe’d never thought he’d see the day.  
He’d have to congratulate Regina about it sometime. 

“Bet you never see anything like _that_ in your French Quarter,” Joe said with a prideful smirk. 

“Oh, I’ll have you know it was two ladies just like them that gave me the majority of my formal education,” Clay said with a voice matching Joe’s smirk in pridefulness. “You would be surprised what you see on any given Sunday, just strolling through town.”

“Sounds like something you’d read in a fantasy novel,” Joe said. Words coming out in a bit of a wistful sigh. 

“I’d love to take you there sometime. Show you the sights; introduce you to some old friends. Some of whom... knew our mother.” Joe’s eyes went wide at the mere prospect. The thought of traveling somewhere so far from home with this brother that he’d only really met for a few weeks those several years before, to the birthplace that his ma had spent so many an evening telling him fanciful stories of-  
“That is,” Clay continued, cutting off Joe’s racing imagination, “if it was alright with that new husband of yours.”

“With Candy? Why wouldn’t it be?” Joe asked as his older brother moved the arm down from around his shoulders to around his back. Making it feel more like a hug as he gripped his opposite arm in a genial way. And chuckled. 

“You don’t know much about married life, do you, mon petit, _petit_ frère?” But before Joe could ask what on earth he was even _being_ teased about, Clay went on. Tone much closer to serious. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. You were so young when Marie left you.” Then the man let his arm drop from his younger brother’s back altogether.  
“I’m sorry for your loss, Little Joe. I’m not sure I’ve said that before. And... I may not have known her, but I do know that she’d have been proud of you. It’s not everybody finds love in this life.” He cut Joe an almost calculating, assessing look which turned warm before he moved to continue. “It’s fewer still who have the courage to reach out and grab it and never let go. I hear Marie was that way. In every aspect of her life.“  
The older brother took a moment to tow the dirt, and when Clay looked back up, Joe noticed his eyes were soft. And just a hint sad. “It’s a good thing too. If she’d been any less the free spirit than she was, I don’t think she’d’a moved out here... and made you. You two are a lot alike; you and Marie.”

Joe didn’t know what to say to that, considering ‘thanks’ just seemed... insufficient. So he let that settle while they stood in companionable quiet. Until he glanced up once more and the look on the taller man’s face reminded his emotions what they’d been wanting to say since they’d realized just who the interloper in black really was.  
“I... I’m real glad you’re here Clay. Now it-it almost feels like Ma’s here with us. _All_ of her boys bein’ here. Together.”

“Y’know,” Clay asked as he moved to put his arm around the newly married man once more, “I was thinking the same thing. Brother.”

“Alright, you two,” came a call which broke up the private, fraternal moment with a start. “Cake’s ready for dishin’ up! Hurry or the first bite ain’t gonna be for the groom and groom!” Came a call in the unmistakable boom belonging to the biggest party goer. The one in the ten gallon hat. Holding the big gleaming serving knife. 

“Better listen to Hoss. Can’t break with tradition, now can we?” Clay asked with a _more_ than wry grin. 

“Not where we don’t have to!” Chortled Joe as the two of them started off in a half jog for the table covered in the biggest chocolate cake either of them had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who isn’t familiar with the character Clay Stafford, he is canonically Joe’s older half brother from his mom’s side and shows up in the Bonanza episode The First Born, season 4, episode 1. It is the only episode he ever showed up in but, even so, I felt that he made such a meaningful impression on Little Joe that I just _had_ to include him.  
>  I hope y’all enjoyed that little surprise and if you haven’t seen Clay’s episode, I do recommend it! Lots of fun! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it's reading like an extra special episode of our favorite family, serialized western!  
> Hope everyone is having a great, Bonanza filled weekend!  
> ~Anonymous


End file.
